“But why?”

“It wasn’t my fault.  Just Fate.  This contrivance was called Klipstone’s Kute Kollar-Klip, and it was supposed to make it easy for you to fasten your tie.  My job was to stand in the window in my shirt-sleeves, gnashing my teeth and registering baffled rage when I tried the old, obsolete method and beaming on the multitude when I used the Klip.  Unfortunately I got the cards mixed.  I beamed when I tried the old, obsolete method and nearly burst myself with baffled fury just after I had exhibited the card bearing the words ‘I will now try Klipstone’s Kute Klip.’  I couldn’t think what the vast crowd outside the window was laughing at till the boss, who chanced to pause on the outskirts of the gathering on his way back from lunch, was good enough to tell me.  Nothing that I could say would convince him that I was not being intentionally humorous.  I was sorry to lose the job, though it did make me feel like a goldfish.  But talking of being fired brings us back to Jerry Mitchell.”

“Oh, never mind Jerry Mitchell now—­”

“On the contrary, let us discuss his case and the points arising from it with care and concentration.  Jerry Mitchell has told me all!”

Ann was startled.

“What do you mean?”

“The word ‘all,’” said Jimmy, “is slang for ‘everything.’  You see in me a confidant.  In a word, I am hep.”

“You know—?”

“Everything.  A colloquialism,” explained Jimmy, “for ‘all.’  About Ogden, you know.  The scheme.  The plot.  The enterprise.”

Ann found nothing to say.

“I am thoroughly in favour of the plan.  So much so that I propose to assist you by taking Jerry’s place.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you remember at lunch that day, after that remarkable person had mistaken me for Jimmy Crocker, you suggested in a light, casual way that if I were to walk into your uncle’s office and claim to be Jimmy Crocker I should be welcomed without a question?  I’m going to do it.  Then, once aboard the lugger—­once in the house, I am at your orders.  Use me exactly as you would have used Jerry Mitchell.”

“But—­but—!”

“Jerry!” said Jimmy scornfully.  “Can’t I do everything that he could have done?  And more.  A bonehead like Jerry would have been certain to have bungled the thing somehow.  I know him well.  A good fellow, but in matters requiring intellect and swift thought dead from the neck up.  It’s a very lucky thing he is out of the running.  I love him like a brother, but his dome is of ivory.  This job requires a man of tact, sense, shrewdness, initiative, esprit, and verve.”  He paused.  “Me!” he concluded.

“But it’s ridiculous!  It’s out of the question!”

“Not at all.  I must be extraordinarily like Jimmy Crocker, or that fellow at the restaurant wouldn’t have taken me for him.  Leave this in my hands.  I can get away with it.”

“I shan’t dream of allowing you—­”