"Aye!" he answered. "I understand your feelings well enough, Moneylaws—and I'm a man of sentiment, so I'll tell you at once that the lass is safe enough, and there's not as much harm come to her as you could put on a sixpence—so there! But—I'm not sure yet that you're safe yourself," he went on, still eyeing me consideringly. "I'm a soft-hearted man, Moneylaws—or else you wouldn't have your brains in their place at this present minute!"
"There's a mighty lot of chance of my harming you, anyway!" said I, with a laugh that surprised myself. "Not so much as a penknife on me, and you with that thing at my head."
"Aye!—but you've got a tongue in that head," said he. "And you might be using it! But come, now—I'm loth to harm you, and you'd best tell me a bit more. What's the police doing?"
"What police do you mean?" I inquired.
"Here, there, everywhere, anywhere!" he exclaimed. "No quibbles, now!—you'll have had plenty of information."
"They're acting on yours," I retorted. "Searching about Glasgow for Sir
Gilbert and Lady Carstairs—you put us on to that, Mr. Hollins."
"I had to," he answered. "Aye, I put Lindsey on to it, to be sure—and he took it all in like it was gospel, and so did all of you! It gained time, do you see, Moneylaws—it had to be done."
"Then—they aren't in Glasgow?" I asked.
He shook his big head solemnly at that, and something like a smile came about the corners of his lips.
"They're not in Glasgow, nor near it," he answered readily, "but where all the police in England—and in Scotland, too, for that matter—'ll find it hard to get speech with them. Out of hand, Moneylaws!—out of hand, d'ye see—for the police!"