“Yes; I am John Huish.”
“Then you are my prisoner, Mr John Huish; here is the warrant. Smith—cuffs!”
“Stop! One minute!” exclaimed Huish excitedly. “What does this mean?”
“Only the end of the little game, sir,” said the dark, stern man. “Long lane that has no turning. Turning’s come at last!”
“I do not understand you. Some mistake.”
“Yes, sir, these matters always are little mistakes. Are you ready?”
“No! Stop!” cried Huish. “Send that man away. You need not secure me. I will go with you.”
The stern man relaxed a little, and smiled.
“Won’t do,” he said. “We’ve had too much trouble to run you down, sir. You well-educated ones are too precious clever. We’ve got a cab waiting.”
“But my wife—my—we have company here.”