“Make me out a list of the people in my household associated with you in this,” his employer ordered Morse sternly, “and bring it to my den immediately.—Stay where you are, Worstead. I shall treat you both alike.—Jacob,” he added, indicating Felixstowe, “who is this remarkably intelligent young man?”
“My secretary,” Jacob replied.
“Name of Felixstowe,” the young man observed, holding out his hand with a winning smile. “Glad to meet you, Mr. Samuel Pratt.”
Samuel passed a hand through the arm of each.
“Come right along with me, boys, to my den, where the still waters flow,” he invited. “We’ll talk over the business quietly. Bring me the list I asked for in five minutes, Morse, and you’d better induce Mr. Worstead to take a seat and wait quietly. I stopped at the station and brought along a couple of plain-clothes men, in case there was any trouble.—This way.”
CHAPTER XXVIII
Jacob and Lord Felixstowe stood side by side on the deck of a homeward-bound steamer, a few weeks later, watching the pilot come out from Plymouth Harbour.
“Some trip,” the latter remarked, with a reminiscent sigh. “I feel as though I’d had the beano of my life.”