"And now, Jimmy," I wound up, "you must guess what I'm going to do."
"I don't need to," said he. "I know."
"I wager you don't."
"I wager I do."
"Well, then, I'm going back. Was that what you guessed?"
"I think you will not."
"Ah, but I will," said I. "I swore by the blood of a Fitzroy Pilkington I'd be back in the morning, and I can't retreat from so tremendous an oath as that. Back I mean to go. As for the real Captain—if Captain he is—I fancy I've scared him out of this neighbourhood for some time to come. And as for the credentials, I fancy, at my time of life, I should be able to write my own commendation. I believe the old boy has a sneaking good-will towards me. I can't answer for the girl; but I can answer that she'll hold her tongue for a while, at all events. This life doesn't become a man of my education and natural ability. And the risk is worth running."
"I wouldn't, if I were you," says he, very drily.
"And why not?"
"Well, you see, when I heard the noise last night, and all the place grew light as it did, I was just starting to run for dear life, till it struck me that if the folks meant to go searching for me they wouldn't begin by lighting the picture-gallery from end to end. So I drew close under shadow of the wall and waited, ready to run at any moment. But after a while, finding that nothing happened, I grew curious and crept up after you and looked in through the window, very cautious. A nice fix you seemed to be in; but old Jenkins was there. And while Jenkins was there—"