Keith answered drily
“Nor I. There's a boat to the Argentine tomorrow. You're in luck; they've made an arrest. It's in the paper.”
“What?”
The cigarette end dropped, the thin pyjama'd figure writhed up and stood clutching at the bedrail.
“What?”
The disturbing thought flitted through Keith's brain: 'I was a fool. He takes it queerly; what now?'
Laurence passed his hand over his forehead, and sat down on the bed.
“I hadn't thought of that,” he said; “It does me!”
Keith stared. In his relief that the arrested man was not Laurence, this had not occurred to him. What folly!
“Why?” he said quickly; “an innocent man's in no danger. They always get the wrong man first. It's a piece of luck, that's all. It gives us time.”