“That,” said Sherriff, “was the impression I intended to convey when I sent the story to the papers.  I’m her Press-agent.  As a matter of fact, I bought Peter-its name’s Peter-myself down on the East Side.  I always believe in animals for Press-agent stunts.  I’ve nearly always had good results.  But with Her Nibs I’m handicapped.  Shackled, so to speak.  You might almost say my genius is stifled.  Or strangled, if you prefer it,”

“Anything you say,” agreed Archie, courteously, “But how?  Why is your what-d’you-call-it what’s-its-named?”

“She keeps me on a leash.  She won’t let me do anything with a kick in it.  If I’ve suggested one rip-snorting stunt, I’ve suggested twenty, and every time she turns them down on the ground that that sort of thing is beneath the dignity of an artist in her position.  It doesn’t give a fellow a chance.  So now I’ve made up my mind to do her good by stealth.  I’m going to steal her snake.”

“Steal it?  Pinch it, as it were?”

“Yes.  Big story for the papers, you see.  She’s grown very much attached to Peter.  He’s her mascot.  I believe she’s practically kidded herself into believing that Russian prince story.  If I can sneak it away and keep it away for a day or two, she’ll do the rest.  She’ll make such a fuss that the papers will be full of it.”

“I see.”

“Wow, any ordinary woman would work in with me.  But not Her Nibs.  She would call it cheap and degrading and a lot of other things.  It’s got to be a genuine steal, and, if I’m caught at it, I lose my job.  So that’s where you come in.”

“But where am I to keep the jolly old reptile?”

“Oh, anywhere.  Punch a few holes in a hat-box, and make it up a shakedown inside.  It’ll be company for you.”

“Something in that.  My wife’s away just now and it’s a bit lonely in the evenings.”

“You’ll never be lonely with Peter around.  He’s a great scout.  Always merry and bright”

“He doesn’t bite, I suppose, or sting or what-not?”

“He may what-not occasionally.  It depends on the weather.  But, outside of that, he’s as harmless as a canary.”

“Dashed dangerous things, canaries,” said Archie, thoughtfully.  “They peck at you.”

“Don’t weaken!” pleaded the Press-agent

“Oh, all right.  I’ll take him.  By the way, touching the matter of browsing and sluicing.  What do I feed him on?”

“Oh, anything.  Bread-and-milk or fruit or soft-boiled egg or dog-biscuit or ants’-eggs.  You know—­anything you have yourself.  Well, I’m much obliged for your hospitality.  I’ll do the same for you another time.  Now I must be getting along to see to the practical end of the thing.  By the way, Her Nibs lives at the Cosmopolis, too.  Very convenient.  Well, so long.  See you later.”