“Only three weeks?” Violet asked eagerly. “Bertrand, what are you going to do then? What is going to become of me?”
Saton patted her on the hand.
“I will tell you a little later on,” he said. “Everything will be arranged all right. The only thing I am wondering about is whether it wouldn’t be better to close up at once.”
“They’ve got a big piece of business on at the office,” she remarked.
Saton frowned.
“I know it,” he answered. “It’s a dangerous piece of business, too. It’s blackmail, pure and simple. I wonder Huntley dare tackle it. It might mean five years’ penal servitude for him.”
“He’d give you away before he went to penal servitude,” Violet remarked. “You may make yourself jolly sure of that.”
Saton passed his hand across his forehead.
“Phew!” he said. “How stuffy this place is! Violet, I wish you’d go round to Huntley, and talk to him. Of course, he gets a big percentage on the returns, and that makes him anxious to squeeze everyone. But I don’t want any risks. We’re nearly out of the wood. I don’t want to be trapped now. And I’ve an enemy, Violet—a pretty dangerous enemy, too. I fancy that most of this activity at Scotland Yard and thereabouts lately, is due to him.”
“I’ll go,” she said, drawing on her gloves. “Shall I telephone to you?”