“The siller greyhound?� said MacKeenon dryly as Fay followed him out to the waiting boat train.
“It’s in my pocket.�
“Put it on, mon. It’ll carry ye far.�
Fay set down the bag, reached in his right trousers pocket and brought forth the insignia of the King’s couriers. He pinned it in place upon his left lapel and covered it with his overcoat.
The station-master approached the inspector and indicated that the train was about to pull out.
MacKeenon held up two fingers and smiled. The station-master nodded at the secret signal. Fay felt clutched in the swing of events. He watched the Scotch detective anxiously.
“Weil, mon,â€� said MacKeenon, “ye’re off. Here’s your ticket for the boat to—where ye’re going. Here’s twa envelopes. Guard them well. There’s money in one—there’s Sir Richard’s instructions in th’ other.â€�
Fay reached, took the envelopes and the ticket, and crammed them in his inner coat pocket.
“How about getting through at Dover?� he asked.
“Shew th’ siller greyhound, lad. They will ask ye no questions at all. Many’s the time A’ve done it.�