“Well, it always beat me why you ever wanted to go into the Army,” said the Viscount. “But if you want to rat, Pom and I can do it without you!”
Sir Roland, shocked, said: “Pel, dear old boy, Pel! Think what you’re saying! Heron ain’t ratting. Only said he’d be broke if we was caught. Mustn’t jump down a man’s throat just because he makes a remark.”
“If it were for anyone but Horry, I would rat,” said Captain Heron. “Why in thunder don’t you wait for Lethbridge to come home, Pelham? If three of us can’t get the brooch away from him without masquerading as highwaymen—”
“Because this is a better way!” said the Viscount. “Great thing is to avoid a scandal. If I put a pistol to the fellow’s head, and he calls me out, where are we then? Worse off than ever! Affair’s bound to come to Rule’s ears, and if you think he won’t suspect Horry’s in it, you don’t know him. This way, we’ll have the brooch without a breath of scandal, and no one the wiser. Now, are you with me, or not, Edward?”
“Yes, I’m with you,” said Captain Heron. “There is something in what you say, if it doesn’t go awry!”
“It can’t go awry, man—unless that rogue’s left Lethbridge’s house.”
“Can’t have done that,” said Sir Roland. “Said he was going to stay there till he had his twenty guineas. Lethbridge not back—can’t have had ’em. Must be there still.”
Sir Roland proved to be right. When they arrived once more in Half-Moon Street, the burly man was still seated in the hall. The porter, as soon as he saw who it was on the doorstep, made a spirited attempt to slam the door. This was frustrated by Sir Roland, who hurled himself against it with great presence of mind, and nearly knocked the breath out of the porter by jamming him between the door and the wall. When he had extricated himself he found all three gentlemen inside the hall again, and groaned. However, as soon as it was explained to him that they only wanted to take away the burly man, he brightened considerably, and even permitted them to hail that worthy into the saloon for a little private conversation.
The burly man, confronted by the Viscount’s pistol, flung up his hands. “Don’t you go for to let off that pop, your honour!” he said huskily. “I ha’n’t done you a mite o’ harm!”
“Not a mite,” agreed the Viscount. “What’s more, I won’t do you any harm if you behave yourself. What’s your name? Come on, man, I’ve got to call you something, haven’t I?”