"Joseph," he said, "I want you to tell these gentlemen who shot that
lion. Who presented it to the Grill?"
Joseph, unused to acting as master of ceremonies to members of the
Club, shifted, nervously, from one foot to the other.
"Why, you--you did," he stammered.
"Of course I did!" exclaimed the young man. "I mean, what is the name
of the man who shot it? Tell the gentlemen who I am. They wouldn't
believe me."
"Who you are, my lord?" said Joseph. "You are Lord Edam's son, the
Earl of Chetney."
"You must admit," said Lord Chetney, when the noise had died away,
"that I couldn't remain dead while my little brother was accused of
murder. I had to do something. Family pride demanded it. Now, Arthur,
as the younger brother, can't afford to be squeamish, but,
personally, I should hate to have a brother of mine hanged for
murder."
"You certainly showed no scruples against hanging me," said the
American, "but, in the face of your evidence, I admit my guilt, and I
sentence myself to pay the full penalty of the law as we are made to
pay it in my own country. The order of this court is," he announced,
"that Joseph shall bring me a wine-card, and that I sign it for five
bottles of the Club's best champagne.
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