"That will come later."
"As I say, it won't go into my nob."
"No matter; say nothing to yourself but this, 'I am to pretend to be Paul Ritson.'"
"Well, now for it!"
"Ready?" asked Hugh. He returned to the bed-head.
"Ready."
"Then give a hand here. We must put him up into your garret. When the police come for him he must seem to be in hiding and in drink. You understand?"
A low, hoarse laugh was the only answer.
Then they lifted the unconscious man from the bed, opened the door, and carried him into the passage.
Mercy recovered her stunned senses. When the men were gone she crept out on tiptoe and tripped down the passage to her own room. At the door she reeled and fell heavily. Then, in a vague state of consciousness, she heard these words passed over her—"Carry her back into her room and lock her in." At the same instant she felt herself being lifted in a strong man's arms.