"He pretends to have intercepted a letter (when he "stole" the money and jewels I took him by way of keeping up appearances), which informs him that one of your party—a Mr. Hardy, or Harpy, he pretended—would be passing through the fig-tree grove this evening, with money, on a journey of some importance. As this Hardy or Harpy is a dangerous person, the brigands, on Harvey's advice, are to send six of their best men on the business."
Harkaway's eyes twinkled again at this.
"Now," said Nabley, "we must bait the trap well. I'll be the bait."
"You?"
"Yes."
"But why should you have so dangerous a post?"
"I prefer it," said Nabley, quietly; "besides, although alone, I shall have some staunch and valuable friends with me."
"You speak in paradoxes, Mr. Nabley."
The detective's reply to this was to draw his two hands from his coat-pockets, and in each hand there was a six-shooter.
"Here are twelve lives," said the detective, "and I've six more in here," tapping his breast.