“I wonder how much and how little he knows,” the latter mused. “And I also wonder whether he really swallows my yarn about the supper. He has discovered who I really am. Of that I am convinced. But does he also know that Mr. Bootle and Miss Stratton are one and the same individual, and that it is a serious strain on my vocal organs to talk so much in an assumed voice? His professed willingness to go to Gibraltar does not deceive me. He knows that the whole story about Mr. Danvers is pure fiction. Knowing this, he is also convinced that I have an ulterior motive behind my apparent friendliness. I have hinted that Miss Stratton has no further business here after Friday. He imagines me to have some plot on foot, which will take until Friday to mature, although this is only Monday. If I am not mistaken, he is now plotting with that villainous-looking fellow who is with him to get rid of me before that time, and, were I remaining here, I might expect another attack upon my life. But after to-night, my friend, you will be harmless.”
Meanwhile Mr. Staines was rapidly explaining as much of the situation as suited him to the individual before-mentioned.
“Don’t look round,” he said. “You saw me come in with the young fellow I have just left. Do you think that he would prove difficult to tackle from behind?”
“Not if to tackle him were worth one’s while, mister. Is he in your way?”
“Very much so.”
“What would his removal be worth to you?”
“Twenty pounds. Ten now, and ten on completion of the job.”
“I think you may depend upon me to conduct the business satisfactorily. But twenty quid is too little. Double it and put half down, and I’m your man.”
“Indeed I won’t. The affair wouldn’t be worth all that to me. The youngster is in my way, but his removal is not necessary. Twenty pounds it is, or nothing.”
“Very well, then. Nothing it shall be. I want to cut this and go to America, but I may as well be hard up here a bit longer as reach America without a penny, and if you won’t give forty, I won’t take the risk.”