“By what authority?” blustered Spedding.
“Tush!” said Angel wearily. “Surely we have got altogether beyond that stage. Your order for withdrawal was expected by me. I waited upon the sergeant of the guard with another order.”
“A forged order, I gather?” said Spedding, recovering his balance. “Now I see why you have allowed my men to go. I overrated your generosity.”
“The order,” said Angel soberly, “was signed by His Majesty’s Secretary of State for Home Affairs”—he tapped the astonished lawyer on the shoulder—“and if it would interest you to know, I have a warrant in my pocket for the arrest of every man jack of you. That I do not put it into execution is a matter of policy.”
The lawyer scanned the calm face of the detective in bewilderment.
“What do you want of me?” he asked at length.
“Your presence at Jimmy’s flat at ten o’clock to-morrow morning,” replied Angel.
“I will be there,” said the other, and turned to go.
“And, Mr. Spedding,” called Jimmy, as the lawyer reached the door, “in regard to a boat you have chartered from Cardiff, I think you need not go any further in the matter. One of my men is at present interviewing the captain, and pointing out to him the enormity of the offense of carrying fugitives from justice to Spanish-American ports.”
“Damn you!” said Spedding, and slammed the door.