“Then since you confess so much, I shall have to ask you to come with them.”
“To the––the Tower of London?”
“The car is ready.”
Marie Louise was stabbed with fright. She seized the doomed twain in a faster embrace.
“What are you going to do with these poor souls?”
“Their souls my dear Miss Webling, are outside our jurisdiction.”
“With their poor bodies, then?”
“I am not a judge or a jury, Miss Webling. Everything will be done with propriety. They will not be torpedoed in midocean without warning. They will have the full advantage of the British law to the last.”
That awful word jarred them all. But Sir Joseph was determined to make a good end. He drew himself up with another effort.
“Excuse, pleass, Mr. Verrinder––might it be we should take with us a few little things?”