"I always get around them that way," he said with an expression of the
brightest cunning. "She used to have the laugh on me because I got so
much counterfeit money handed to me. Now I don't take any change at
all."

"Yes, sir," I said. "Quite right, sir."

"There's more than one way to skin a cat," he added as we ascended to
the Floud's drawing-room, though why his mind should have flown to
this brutal sport, if it be a sport, was quite beyond me. At the door
he paused and hissed at me: "Remember, no matter what she says, if you
treat me white I'll treat you white." And before I could frame any
suitable response to this puzzling announcement he had opened the door
and pushed me in, almost before I could remove my cap.

Seated at the table over coffee and rolls was Mrs. Effie. Her face
brightened as she saw me, then froze to disapproval as her glance
rested upon him I was to know as Cousin Egbert. I saw her capable
mouth set in a straight line of determination.

"You did your very worst, didn't you?" she began. "But sit down and
eat your breakfast. He'll soon change _that_." She turned to me.
"Now, Ruggles, I hope you understand the situation, and I'm sure I can
trust you to take no nonsense from him. You see plainly what you've
got to do. I let him dress to suit himself this morning, so that you
could know the worst at once. Take a good look at him--shoes, coat,
hat--that dreadful cravat!"

"I call this a right pretty necktie," mumbled her victim over a crust
of toast. She had poured coffee for him.