"Perhaps I ought to mention, Monsieur," Alan said, as if the idea had just occurred to him, "that my enemies are just as likely to attack the clock as my person—more likely, it may be."
"Hah!" Guidet bounded on his seat. "My clock!—They dare to attack him!—"
"Possibly with explosives—"
"Enough! Pray leave me, Mr. Craik. I—I may yet find a way. Give me a whole hour."
During the walk up the loch Teddy actually forgot the clock. Alan and Marjorie were in front, and he noted his friend's bearing towards the girl with a pained wonder, and thought of Doris.
On returning to the house they found Monsieur waiting for them. He held a sheaf of papers covered with queer drawings and calculations. And he hung his head.
"Mr. Craik," he said sadly, "I have struggle, but it is no use. I see an hour, thirteen days after to-day, when perhaps I might stop him without disaster—but only perhaps—only perhaps. And so I dare not, will not risk. One leetle, tiny mistake of a second, and"—he made an expressive gesture—"all is lost."
The silence of dismay was broken by Handyside.
"But bless my soul, Monsieur Guidet, if you stop him at the wrong time, you can easily set him going again."
"Not so! He stop once, he stop for ever."