Foster knew this was as much as he would admit, but felt that he could trust the man.
"Very well. My partner's in some danger, and with Mr. Featherstone's permission I must try to see him through, but may want your help. I suppose you're willing?"
"Yes, sir. If it's for Mr. Lawrence, you can take it that I am."
"You can drive an automobile pretty well?"
"Not like a professional, sir, but now we don't keep a chauffeur I often drive to the station."
"That's satisfactory. I may want the car to-morrow evening, but nobody else must know about this."
"Very good, sir," said John. "When you're ready you can give me your instructions; they'll go no further."
Then he dipped a rag in the oil and began to rub a gun, and Foster went out, feeling satisfied. It was plain that he could rely upon the old fellow, who he thought was unflinchingly loyal to the Featherstones. After all, it was something to have the respect and affection of one's servant.