Again there was a short silence. Rupert took out the bundle of notes Jim had given him and fingered them thoughtfully. "I shan't want all this money. Ruby may be out of an engagement. I wish you would find a way of sending her half the amount you've given me."
"You stick to them. I'll see that she wants for nothing. That is the first thing I'll do when I get back. I daren't tell her even that you've escaped out of England, though of course, she'll guess. But I'll give her your message. Is that all?"
"I think that's all," Rupert replied. He found it very difficult to keep his voice under control. "Tell her—tell her I love her—and am grateful, always grateful."
Jim started. He made a movement towards Rupert, his lips framing a question. He checked it, and, turning away, rang the bell.
"And now for dinner and then the theatre. You had better go into the other room, Cotton, while I give my orders to the waiter, in case he saw you coming in with my bag—he might wonder what sort of game I was playing with my servant."
Rupert nodded and crossed the room. "I see you've got your name all right." Jim smiled.
As soon as dinner was ordered the two men strolled down to the lounge, and then Rupert remembered to tell Jim the incident of the General he had forgotten to salute, and the scene he had had with the sergeant.
Crichton laughed. "By jove, you might have got poor Jackson into a nice mess! But as you were carrying my bag and men are not supposed to salute when they're carrying things, I'll make it all right for you."
At eight o'clock they made their way to the theatre and found Captain Sparkes and his friend already occupying one of the boxes.
Four hours later they were walking beneath the starlit sky towards the Barbican. The captain was in a rare good humour with himself. They found the dinghy waiting for them at the appointed place. Sparkes and his passenger tumbled in unquestioned. The final farewells were shouted, the oars struck the water. The little boat pulled out and was soon lost to view.