"No," said the young man wildly. "No, I don't mind. I'm going away myself to-morrow, going away for good."
"Oh, are you?" said William sadly. "I'm sorry. I shall miss you quite a lot an' I 'speck you'll miss me."
"Oh, yes," answered Mr. Strange. "I shall miss you. I hope I shall miss you."
"Well, don't worry about it," said William kindly. "I 'speck you'll be comin' back soon. Good-bye, an' you can get on with your tale now, can't you, now you know wot he says an' does in reel life? Well, good-bye."
He went briskly out of the front door.
Mr. Strange drew a deep, quivering breath of relief. But not for long. Two apparitions appeared before the window, coming up the drive, one the blackened and battered remains of Mr. Porter and the other a stalwart arm of the law, carrying a note-book.
There was a gleam in Mr. Porter's eye. He was going to execute justice but, justice executed, there lay before him the warm fire, and comfortable bedroom slippers, and well-cooked dinner, and glass of wine, and excellent cigar, and evening paper of his dreams.
But Vivian's horrified gaze was drawn from them by the near vision of William's face pressed against the glass.
"I say," called William. "You did say I could keep that knife for a bit, didn't you?"
Vivian Strange made a wild gesture that might have been assent or dissent or mere frenzy.