"What are you going to do?" asked Patience, eagerly.
"Pit my poor wits against those of Sir Humphrey Challoner," he replied gaily.
"I don't quite understand."
He came up quite close to her and tried to meet her eyes.
"But you trust me?" he asked.
And she murmured,—
"Absolutely."
"May Heaven bless you for that word!" he said earnestly. "Then will you deign to do as I shall direct?"
"Entirely."
"Very well! Then whilst friend Stich will fetch my hat for me, will you write out a formal plaint, signed with your full name, stating that last night on the Heath you were waylaid and robbed by a man, whom I, your courier, saw quite plainly, and whom you have desired me to denounce?"