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Why the deuce should he " "I didn't ask the mawster, sir," says Nimms, "but my private opinion of the matter, sir, is that he was on 'is way to a masked banquet of some sort. I 'appened to see a hinvitation, sir, that " "Dig it up, Nimms," says I. "Might be a clue." Sure enough, Nimms had it stowed away; and the fathead hadn't said a word about it before.
"Begging your pardon, sir," puts in Nimms, "but that could 'ardly be so, sir, seeing as 'ow 'is sticks are still 'ere. That's the strange part of 'is disappearance, sir. 'E never travels without 'is bag of sticks. And they're in that closet, sir." "Couldn't he rent an outfit, or borrow one?" I suggests. "He could," says Mr. Robert, "but he wouldn't. No more than you would rent a toothbrush.
That is one of the symptoms of the golf duffer. He has his pet clubs and imagines he can play with no others. I think we must agree with Nimms. If we do, the case looks serious again, for Penrhyn would certainly not go away voluntarily unless it was to some place where he could indulge in his mania." "That's it!" says I. "Then he's been steered somewhere against his will. That's the line!
"'E just walked out, sir, and never came back," says Nimms. "See, sir, I've 'ad 'is morning suit all laid out ever since, sir." "Then he went in evening clothes?" puts in Mr. Robert. "Not exactly, sir," says Nimms. "'E was attired as a court jester, sir; in motley, you know, sir, and cap and bells." "Wha-a-at?" says Mr. Robert. "In a fool's costume? You say he went out in that rig?
But what we got out of that pie-faced Nimms of Penrhyn's wasn't worth taking notes of. He's got a map about as full of expression as the south side of a squash, Nimms. A peanut-headed Cockney that Penrhyn found somewhere in London. "Sure I cawn't say, sir," says he, "where the mawster went to, sir. It was lawst Monday night 'e vanished, sir." "Whaddye mean, vanished?" says I.
Also he has a kit bag packed for two of us and collects from Nimms a full outfit of daylight clothes for Penryhn. We got away about five o'clock and as Mr. Maybe we would have, too, if we'd caught the Staten Island ferries right at both ends, and hadn't had two blow-outs and strayed off the road once. As it is we finally lands at little joint that shows on the map as Forked River about 1 a.m.
I expect he wore a rain coat or something over his costume, and went in a taxi; eh, Nimms?" "Quite so, sir," says Nimms. "A long raincoat, sir." "But," breaks in Mr. Robert, "a man couldn't wander around New York dressed in a fool's costume without being noticed. That is, not for several days." "You bet he couldn't," says I. "So he didn't."
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