“Then hand it back to the people it legally belongs to,” Sir Clinton said coolly. “If you don’t want it, other people may have a use for it. It’s a fair test of all that high falutin’ stuff you laid off a minute or two ago.”
Stenness made no reply, but rose and went towards the door.
“Oh, just another thing, Stenness. Meet me at the front of the house here at . . . at. . . . Have you a time-table?”
Stenness produced the ABC from a shelf and Sir Clinton turned over its pages before continuing.
“The first train’s at 7.10 a.m.,” he said. “Meet me out at the house-door at half-past six sharp to-morrow morning. Now don’t fail!”
Stenness was plainly bewildered, and in his astonishment he gave a grudging assent.
“That’ll do, then,” Sir Clinton went on. “Just put that cash in the safe, now. And, by-the-bye, send Ardsley to me as you go out.”
Stenness nodded dully and moved towards the door. Now that he had made a clean breast of things, his mind seemed to have gone back to his loss; and his whole bearing was eloquent of his utter despair. Sir Clinton watched him leave the room.
“A tough bullet for the poor devil to bite on,” he thought to himself. “Well, ‘joy cometh in the morning,’ it says somewhere or other. Perhaps he’ll find it so.”
He lit a fresh cigarette and seemed to dismiss Stenness from his mind.