"Well, I'm blessed!" he gasped when I'd finished. "Do you mean to say you're Burton—the Burton! Why, I was only reading your case while I was at lunch, and thinking how much I'd like to meet you."
"Well, you've done it all right," laughed Billy; "and devilish lucky for us, too."
"But, good Lord, what a yarn!" went on Cumming, looking with a kind of curious admiration first at me, and then back at Billy and Mercia. "It knocks spots off my woolliest efforts, and that's saying something. And to think of my being in at the death, too! It's enough to make Oppenheim blue with envy."
"Come up to town with us and see it through," I suggested. "They've turned me down as a murderer, it's true, but there are all sorts of pleasant possibilities still kicking about. I shall probably be arrested for stealing Northcote's ten thousand as soon as I get back."
"Anyhow," said Billy, smiling at Mercia, "he can at least promise you a wedding."
"And probably a funeral as well," I added, "if I happen to run across Maurice."
"I'd love to," said Cumming, steering us deftly in towards the quay through the crowd of anchored boats. "All the same, I think I'll run this little jigger round to Maldon first. It would be just as well to get her out of Burnham in case your pal, Lord Sangatte, puts back here for plaster. I ought to go up to town to-morrow in any case, so if you'll give me your address, I'll roll round and 'pay my respects.'"
"Do!" I said heartily. "If I'm not in Bow Street, you'll find me at Lammersfield House, Park Lane."
"You forget, my son," interrupted Billy. "It doesn't belong to you now."
"Yes, it does," I said firmly. "I gave my promise to Northcote, and I'm not going to shift out of it until the three weeks are up."