He would have hurried off to Benchers’ Inn with the information, but he was bound to go on to the police office and see the matter through with Sir Mark; and in due time they reached Scotland Yard, to find Barron, or Dale, in a kind of desk, listening carelessly to the evidence given by the officers who had helped to execute the warrant.
But the man’s whole aspect changed as he saw Sir Mark and Guest enter.
“Hah!” he cried; “at last. Now, Mr Inspector, or whatever you are, this is Admiral Sir Mark Jerrold, my father-in-law. The whole affair is one of mistaken identity. For Heaven’s sake, my dear sir, satisfy these people as to my responsibility, and act as bail for my reappearance. Of course there will be no Southampton to-day. How does Myra bear the shock?”
Sir Mark’s opinion veered toward the speaker directly, and turning to the officer who had been his companion from the house, he found him smiling.
“There, sir, I told you it was all a mistake.”
“Yes, Sir Mark, you did,” said the man respectfully; and then to a couple of policemen: “Bring them in.”
“The luggage?” cried Guest as he saw what was being borne in by the men.
“Yes, sir,” said the officer. “I stepped back to give instructions to our men to bring on everything from the carriage, and the trunks sent on to Waterloo. They must be searched for incriminating evidence. The lady’s luggage will be sent back to Bourne Square at once.”
“The insolence of the scoundrels!” cried Barron. “My dear Sir Mark, pray get this wretched business finished.”
“I can save the gentleman a good deal of trouble, Dale,” said the inspector in charge.