“There you are, then! For the rest, we must simply trust our luck. It has stood by us pretty well so far. Oh, and, by-the-way, what about Mr. Parsons? How did you manage to get him out?”
I rapidly sketched my part in the affair, and made them all laugh amazingly as I told them of my disguise and its accidental resemblance to Lord B.
“Whether we are drunken men or fools,” laughed Brentin, “I know not; but Providence has certainly looked after us so far in a way that I may fairly call the most favored nation clause.”
“Quoti moris minus est, eo minus est periculi!” I quoted, somehow happening to remember the sentence from my old Latin grammar. “Which is the Latin, ladies, for ‘Where there is the less fear, there is the less danger.’ ”
Lucy pressed my arm and smiled happily.
Just as we neared the carriages:
“By-the-way,” I asked, “what did it all tote up to?”
“The boodle?”
“Yes.”
“Just over one million four hundred and fifty thousand francs; roughly speaking, fifty-eight thousand pounds of your money.”