"Oh, Kind could explain that in due time. All he wanted and I wanted, was to have that Narby animal arrested. However, Pope lost his head, and before the policeman could seize him, he escaped. I think that was how the affair happened, and you see from that telegram, that Kind believes Pope and his mother have made for the 'Marsh Inn.' I expect that they will hastily pack a few things and escape."
"Then Pope Narby killed Sir Simon," said Herries again.
"I can't be certain of that until I see him," said Kyles.
"Then you don't get the four thousand pounds," retorted Ritson.
"I'll have it before midnight," said Kyles glancing again at his watch, "for then I sail for--let us say, Indiana. I have so wish that you, Mr. Ritson, should put the police on my track. Mr. Herries I can trust, but you,--a lawyer."
"Aye, aye," commented Mr. Gowrie, "they lawyer bodies are the bairns o' Auld Nicky-Ben. The Faither o' Lies, the Accuser o' the Brethren, perverse an' damnable----"
"Don't miscall your best friend, Mr. Gowrie," snapped Ritson. "But we are no nearer the end than we were. Perhaps, Captain Kyles, you will now make your long deferred explanation."
"Have you the four thousand pounds?" asked Kyles sharply.
"There's the box. But you don't get it until----"
"Open the box, and let me see the money," said Kyles. "How do I know but what you will diddle me?"