“There’s only one point, Captain,” remarked the American, as the group began to disperse. “That safe—and the ledger.” He fumbled in his pocket, and produced a small india-rubber bottle. “I’ve got the soup here—gelignite,” he explained, as he saw the mystified look on the other’s face. “I reckoned it might come in handy. Also a fuse and detonator.”
“Splendid!” said Hugh, “splendid! You’re an acquisition, Mr. Green, to any gathering. But I think—I think—Lakington first. Oh! yes—most undoubtedly—Henry first!”
And once again the American laughed softly at the look on his face.
CHAPTER XI
IN WHICH LAKINGTON PLAYS HIS LAST “COUP”
I
“Toby, I’ve got a sort of horrid feeling that the hunt is nearly over.”
With a regretful sigh Hugh swung the car out of the sleeping town of Godalming in the direction of Laidley Towers. Mile after mile dropped smoothly behind the powerful two-seater, and still Drummond’s eyes wore a look of resigned sadness.
“Very nearly over,” he remarked again. “And then once more the tedium of respectability positively stares us in the face.”
“You’ll be getting married, old bean,” murmured Toby Sinclair hopefully.