Simms shook his head.
“He is under a certificate,” said he. “The Commissioners call at Hoover’s, inspect the books, find that Lord Rochester has been there, find him gone, find you have taken him away. They will simply call upon you to produce him.”
“How about my yacht?” asked the other.
“A long sea voyage for his health?”
“Ah,” said Simms, “that’s better, but voyages come to an end.”
“How about my villa at Naples? Properly looked after there he will be safe enough.”
“Of course,” said Simms, “that will mean he will always have to be there—always.”
“Of course, always. D’you think now I have got him in safety I will let him out?”
Simms sighed. The business was drifting into very dangerous waters. He knew for a matter of fact and also by intuition that Jones was Jones and that Rochester was dead and his unfortunate position was like this:
1. If Jones escaped from Hoover’s unsoothed and furious he might find his way to the American Consul or, horror! to some newspaper office. Then the band would begin to play.