"I feel sure that that beggar I told you about was a detective."
"Why?"
"He was evidently waiting for me and I couldn't shake him off till he had had a good look at the jewels."
"It is much more likely that he was waiting for a penny than for you, and beggars are usually persistent. I see no possible reason why the police should be shadowing you. It is your guilty conscience that makes you so suspicious."
"You may be right; I certainly hope you are, but till I am sure of it, I don't dare to run the risk of being seen with Miss Prentice. As she is in no condition to go about alone, I have been worrying a good deal as to how to get her out of the Home; so I thought—it occurred to me—that—you are the person to do it."
"Thanks, awfully! So you leave me the pleasant task of running off with a servant-girl who is 'wanted' by the police! You are really too unselfish!"
"Miss Prentice is a lady," Cyril angrily asserted.
"H'm," Campbell ejaculated skeptically. "That she is a beauty I do not doubt, and she has certainly played her cards very skilfully."
"Don't you dare to speak of her like that," cried Cyril, clenching his fists and half starting to his feet.
"By Jove, old man! You're smitten with her," exclaimed Campbell, staring aghast at his friend.