“Well, my dear fellow. You don’t seem to appreciate his kindness very much.”
“I never appreciate the solicitude of my enemies, my dear Jim,” he replied with perfect nonchalance. “It’s my failing, I suppose.”
Jannaway disregarded the sarcasm, and said:
“I was with him only half an hour ago round in Berkeley Square, and he told me to come along at once to you, and urge you to get away. He gave me these for you,” and from his pocket he produced three thousand-franc notes.
“My dear Jim, both you and Felix seem to take me for a silly mug,” laughed Red Mullet defiantly, “but you must please remember that I’ve been mug-hunting too long to be bluffed like this. The exemplary Baronet is desirous that I should leave London, and sends you, his emissary, to give me timely warning. Well, my dear boy. I want no warning,” he said, for he was now on his mettle. “I shall simply remain here. If they send anybody from Scotland Yard—well, here’s a drink for them,” and he indicated the tantalus and glasses upon a side table.
“But surely you don’t wish to remain here, and give the whole game away!” cried Jannaway, anxiously, standing in the centre of the room, his hat pushed slightly to the back of his head.
“What does it matter to me? I never move without just cause. I’m growing rather sceptical in my old age. What proof have I of this extraordinary contretemps?”
“What proof do you want? I’m here to warn you. Are you a fool, Charlie?”
“Yes. Until I know why this warning has been given me. How does Felix know?”
“He has a pal down at Scotland Yard—a sergeant whom he helped ‘over the stile’ a few years ago. He gives him valuable tips sometimes. One of them is that you’ve been recognised, and that the warrant has been given for your arrest to-night.”