“At once—that is, to-night. You could be ready?”
“A man who can draw a little money is always ready,” replied Brettison, smiling. “Then I’ll take him back with me in a cab, pack up some things, and you will join us in time to catch the train which meets the Southampton boat this evening.”
“No. Leave him with me,” said Stratton firmly. “Go and get your luggage ready, and call for me with a cab at nine; that will be plenty of time for us to catch the train.”
“But—er—leave you—with him?” said Brettison hesitatingly.
Stratton laughed bitterly.
“Don’t be afraid, old fellow,” he said. “I shall not try to murder him this time.”
“My dear Malcolm!” cried the old man reproachfully.
“Well,” said Stratton, smiling sadly; “if you did not exactly think that, you had some hazy notions of its being unsafe to leave me with my incubus.”
“I—that is—” faltered Brettison weakly.
“There, say no more. He’s safe with me. I shall not try to buy her freedom at such a cost. You know that.”