“Does he seem to have any idea why I have come to the castle?” he asked.
“Any idea? Why, dash it, the very first thing he said to me was that you must have come to sneak Aunt Connie’s necklace.”
“In that case, why has he made no move till to-day? I should have supposed that he would long since have denounced me before as large an audience as he could assemble. Why this reticence on the part of genial old Baxter?”
A crimson flush of chivalrous indignation spread itself over Freddie’s face.
“He told me that, too.”
“There seems to have been no reserves between Comrade Baxter and yourself. And very healthy, too, this spirit of confidence. What was his reason for abstaining from loosing the bomb?”
“He said he was pretty sure you wouldn’t try to do anything on your own. He thought you would wait till your accomplice arrived. And, damn him,” cried Freddie heatedly, “do you know who he’s got the infernal gall to think is your accomplice? Miss Halliday! Dash him!”
Psmith smoked in thoughtful silence.
“Well, of course, now that this has happened,” said Freddie, “I suppose it’s no good thinking of going on with the thing. You’d better pop off, what? If I were you, I’d leg it to-day and have your luggage sent on after you.”
Psmith threw away his cigarette and stretched himself. During the last few moments he had been thinking with some tenseness.