"I trusted that man," he said. "I jolly well trusted him absolutely."
"I know," said Ashe. "There is one born every minute."
"But"—the thing seemed to be filtering slowly into Freddie's intelligence "what I mean to say is, I—I—thought he was such a good chap."
"My short acquaintance with Mr. Jones," said Ashe "leads me to think that he probably is—to himself."
"I won't have anything more to do with him."
"I shouldn't."
"Dash it, I'll tell you what I'll do. The very next time I meet the blighter, I'll cut him dead. I will! The rotter! Five hundred quid he's had off me for nothing! And, if it hadn't been for you, he'd have had another thousand! I'm beginning to think that my old governor wasn't so far wrong when he used to curse me for going around with Jones and the rest of that crowd. He knew a bit, by Gad! Well, I'm through with them. If the governor ever lets me go to London again, I won't have anything to do with them. I'll jolly well cut the whole bunch! And to think that, if it hadn't been for you . . ."
"Never mind that," said Ashe. "Give me the scarab. Where is it?"
"What are you going to do with it?"
"Restore it to its rightful owner."