“Where are they all?” she gasped. “How on earth did you get here?”
“I brought off a small bluff,” Jacob explained gravely. “Your two friends believed a little legend of mine about the signing of my cheque and expected a visit from some Scotland Yard officers. They tried to escape. You’ll find them downstairs. I am afraid Mason may have to go to the hospital, but Hartwell should be all right in a day or two, if he lies in a dark room.”
For the moment she was cowed. She looked at him almost fearfully. Hartwell and Mason were strong men. Escape seemed to her a miracle. With her wrist still in his steel-like grasp, she suffered him to lead her out on to the pavement.
“Your association with this ridiculous escapade,” he continued, “has decided me to regard it as a practical joke,—on one condition: which is that you step into my car there, allow my man to drive you to your rooms, or wherever you are staying, and promise me to have nothing whatever more to do with this gang of adventurers.”
“You are not going to give information to the police about them?” she asked breathlessly.
“I cannot without involving you,” was the cool reply. “You were the decoy. You can insure their safety.”
She shivered.
“I accept,” she murmured.
Jacob handed her into the car. She moved her skirts instinctively to make room for him by her side. He closed the door.