“Stop, stop! for the love of Heaven, will you stop, or you 'll kill me!” cried Skeffy; and, throwing himself on his back on the sofa, he flung his legs into the air, and yelled aloud with laughter.
“Do you know, Master Darner, I'm sorely tempted to pitch you neck and crop out of the window?” said Tony, savagely.
“Do so, do so, by all means, if you like; only let me have my laugh out, or I shall burst a blood-vessel.”
Tony made no reply, but walked up and down the room with his brow bent and his arms folded.
“And then?” cried Skeff,—“and then? What came next?”
“It is your opinion, then,” said Tony, sternly, “that this fellow was a swindler, and not on the Staff at all?”
“No more than he was my godfather!” cried Darner, wiping his eyes.
“And that the whole was a planned scheme to get hold of the despatches?”
“Of course. Filangieri knows well that we are waiting for important instructions here. There is not a man calls here who is not duly reported to him by his secret police.”
“And why did n't Sir Joseph think of that when I told him what had happened? All he said was, 'Be of good cheer, Butler; the world will go round even after the loss of a despatch-bag.'”