“What’s done can’t be undone,” countered the detective, well knowing that Grant confessed himself beaten.
“But what is all the bother about? You heard from Miss Martin’s own lips absolutely the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Put her in the witness-box, and what more can she tell you?”
“I am not worrying about her appearance in the witness-box,” said Furneaux dryly. “Long before that stage is reached I shall be hunting a star burglar, or, perhaps, looking into the Foreign Office dossier of our worthy friend here, as to-day’s papers hint at trouble in Venezuela. No, sir. The county police will get all the credit. P. C. Robinson will be swanking about then, telling the yokels what he did. I, with Olympic nod, say, ‘There’s your man!’ and the handcuffs’ brigade do the rest. So far as I can foresee, Miss Martin’s name may be spared any undue prominence in this inquiry. I go even farther, and promise that anything I can do in that way shall be done.”
“That is very kind and considerate of you,” said Grant gratefully.
“Don’t halloo till you’re out of the wood.” said Furneaux, sitting back suddenly and nursing his left knee with clasped hands. “I can’t control other people’s actions, you know. What I insist on to-night is that you shall envisage this affair in its proper light. We have a long way to travel before counsel rises with his smug ‘May it please you, me lud, and gentlemen of the jury.’ But, having persuaded you to agree that, willy nilly, Miss Doris is the hub of our little universe for the hour, I now swear you and this fire-eater in as assistants. There must be no more speeches, no punching of heads, very little love-making, and that by order—”
“Has the postmaster’s daughter a delectable sister, O Liliputian cop?” demanded Hart.
“No. Two of ’em would have caused a riot long since. Mr. Grant will do all, and more than all, necessary in that direction.”
Grant leaned forward. He spoke very earnestly.
“I want you to believe me when I tell you,” he said, “that I never gave serious thought to the notion of marrying Miss Martin until such a possibility was suggested last night by that swab, Ingerman.”
“Ah, Ingerman! You kept a record of what he said, I gather?”