"Nonsense," I replied, "who would arrest you? No one has the right. You are out on bail: your bail answers for you till the 20th. Money talks, man; Englishmen always listen to money. It'll do you good with the public and the jury to come back from France to stand your trial. Do come," and I took him by the arm; but he would not move. To my astonishment he faced me and said:
"And my sureties?"
"We'll pay 'em," I replied, "both of 'em, if you break your bail. Come," but he would not.
"Frank, if I were not in Oakley Street to-night Willie would tell the police."
"Your brother?" I cried.
"Yes," he said, "Willie."
"Good God!" I exclaimed; "but let him tell. I have not mentioned Erith or the steam yacht to a soul. It's the last place in the world the police would suspect and before he talks we shall be out of reach. Besides they cannot do anything; you are doing nothing wrong. Please trust me, you do nothing questionable even till you omit to enter the Old Bailey on the 20th of May."
"You don't know Willie," he continued, "he has made my solicitors buy letters of mine; he has blackmailed me."
"Whew!" I whistled. "But in that case you'll have no compunction in leaving him without saying 'goodbye.' Let's go and get into the brougham."