"Well, well; I'll lay a straight course." Wallace slid his shoulder from under Ryanne's hand.
"To you, then, Hoddy, the business of quarantining our friend Percival. Don't hurt him; simply detain him. You must realize the importance of this. Have you your plans?"
"I'll perfect them to-morrow. I shall find a way, never fear."
"Does the rug come in anywhere?" The Major was curious. It sometimes seemed to him that Ryanne did not always lay his cards face up upon the table.
"It will play its part. Besides, I am rather inclined to the idea of taking it back. It may be the old wishing-carpet. In that case, it will come in handy. Who knows?"
"How much is it worth?"
"Ah, Major, Percival himself could not say exactly. He gave me a thousand pounds for it."
"A thousand pounds!" murmured Wallace.
The Major struck his hands lightly together. Whether in applause or wonder he alone knew.
"And it was worth every shilling of it, too. I'll tell you the story some day. There are a dozen ways of suppressing Percival, but I must have something appealing to my artistic side."