The voice of the assistant was one of discouragement.
“You certainly do not,” he exclaimed regretfully. “But it's the only plan I could think of.”
“It seems to me,” said his chief testily, “that you are not so very healthy-looking yourself. What's the matter with YOUR getting inside as a dope fiend and MY standing guard?”
“But I wouldn't know what to do after I got inside,” complained the assistant, “and you would. You are so clever.”
The expression of confidence seemed to flatter Ford.
“I might do this,” he said. “I might pretend I was recovering from a heavy spree, and ask to be taken care of until I am sober. Or I could be a very good imitation of a man on the edge of a nervous breakdown. I haven't been five years in the newspaper business without knowing all there is to know about nerves. That's it!” he cried. “I will do that! And if Mr. Bluebeard Svengali, the Strangler of Paris person, won't take me in as a patient, we'll come back with a couple of axes and BREAK in. But we'll try the nervous breakdown first, and we'll try it now. I will be a naval officer,” declared Ford. “I made the round-the-world cruise with our fleet as a correspondent, and I know enough sea slang to fool a medical man. I am a naval officer whose nerves have gone wrong. I have heard of his sanatorium through——” “How,” asked Ford sharply, “have I heard of his sanatorium?”
“You saw his advertisement in the DAILY WORLD,” prompted Cuthbert. “'Home of convalescents; mental and nervous troubles cured.'”
“And,” continued Ford, “I have come to him for rest and treatment. My name is Lieutenant Henry Grant. I arrived in London two weeks ago on the MAURETANIA. But my name was not on the passenger-list, because I did not want the Navy Department to know I was taking my leave abroad. I have been stopping at my own address in Jermyn Street, and my references are yourself, the Embassy, and my landlord. You will telephone him at once that, if any one asks after Henry Grant, he is to say what you tell him to say. And if any one sends for Henry Grant's clothes, he is to send MY clothes.”
“But you don't expect to be in there as long as that?” exclaimed Cuthbert.
“I do not,” said Ford. “But, if he takes me in, I must make a bluff of sending for my things. No; either I will be turned out in five minutes, or if he accepts me as a patient I will be there until midnight. If I cannot get the girl out of the house by midnight, it will mean that I can't get out myself, and you had better bring the police and the coroner.”