“It’s no use crying over spilt milk,” said Jimmy quietly. “The thing to do now is to frustrate Spedding and rescue the girl.”
“Will he dare——?”
“He’ll dare. Oh, yes, he’ll dare,” said Jimmy. “He’s worse than you think, Angel.”
“But he is already a ruined man.”
“The more reason why he should go a step further. He’s been on the verge of ruin for months, I’ve found that out. I made inquiries the other day, and discovered he’s in a hole that the dome of St. Paul’s wouldn’t fill. He’s a trustee or something of the sort for an association that has been pressing him for money. Spedding will dare anything”—he paused then—“but if he dares to harm that girl he’s a dead man.”
The old lady came in at that moment with the book, and Jimmy hastily turned over the pages.
Near the end he came upon something that brought a gleam to his eye.
He thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out a notebook. He did not wait to pull up a chair, but sank on his knees by the side of the table and wrote rapidly, comparing the text with the drawings in the book.
Angel, leaning over, followed the work breathlessly.
“There—and there—and there!” cried Angel exultantly. “What fools we were, Jimmy, what fools we were.”