Glyddyr uttered a low expiration of the breath, as he recalled how closely Gellow’s interests were mixed up with his own.
“And I have given him carte blanche,” he thought; “and he will say or do anything to throw them off the scent—or do anything,” he repeated, after a pause. “No, he dare do no harm; he is too fond of his own neck.”
He had come to this point when he reached the side of his long, graceful-looking yacht, and as soon as he was aboard he gave his orders; the mooring ropes were cast off, and the sails hoisted. Then, fetching a glass from the cabin, Glyddyr carefully scanned the pier and shore, but could see nothing but little knots of people standing about discussing the adventure, while the largest knots hung about the door of the hotel.
Almost at the same moment, Gellow was using the telescope in the hotel hall.
“Right,” he said to himself, as he closed it, upon seeing that the sails of the yacht were being hoisted. “Good boy; but you’ll have to pay for it. Well, doctor, how is she?”
Doctor Asher had just come down from one of the bed-chambers.
“Recovering fast,” said that gentleman, following Gellow into a private room, “but very much excited. She will require rest and great care for some days.”
Gellow tapped him on the breast, and gave him a meaning look.
“No, she won’t, doctor,” he said, in a low voice. “I must get her home at once. Most painful for us both to stop. People chattering and staring, and that sort of thing. Most grateful to you for your attention,” he continued, taking out his pocket-book, opening it quickly, and drawing therefrom two crisp new five-pound notes. “Let me see, you doctors prefer guineas,” he said, thrusting his hand into his pocket.
“No, no, really,” protested Asher, as his eyes sparkled at the sight of the notes.