“We sha’n’t,” corrected the Prior; “they will fight us!”
“No, they won’t. They will all come to my round-table conference,” I said gaily. “You see? Now how shall we manage it?” I pretended to stop for a moment to think, and then I went on. “Oh, I see. Its simple enough. We Avili call the gathering together at my office to-morrow night at half-past ten, when we three ringleaders will assemble. For 10:45 we invite Cuthbertson. In half-an-hour we ought to persuade him that his interest lies in the same direction as ours, so at 11:15 we will bid the hunchback to the conference. Give him half-an-hour too, for he is a stubborn old man,” I observed, with a jocular nod in the direction of Casteno, “and then issue invitations to Colonel Napier and his daughter for 11:30, and Lord Fotheringay, who really seems to have less to do with the business than anyone, for 11:45.”
“And, pray, how,” queried Casteno, with obvious incredulity, “shall you communicate with them? Call on them, and ask them? Why, not one of them will see you, or, if he does, he will do it only to discover whether he can’t have you arrested for one or other of our recent pranks.”
“Why, we will telegraph, of course,” I cried snatching up some forms that happened to lie on a davenport close within my reach. “Look here, both of you, how will this do, to be sent to each one’s last known place of address?” And I bent down and scribbled rapidly the following invitation:—
“Please come to-morrow night to the Glynn’s Inquiry Offices, Stanton Street, WC. Manuscripts have been found and decoded. Will put before you a scheme that will ensure success for all.—John Cooper—Nassington, José Casteno, Hugh Glynn.”
“There!” I added. “All we’ve got to do now is to make four copies of these and address each one to the different conspirators, and in each instance put the time we have fixed for our interview with them.”
“I’ll be hanged if I put my name to a meek and mild bread-and-butter come-and-let-us-all-be-friends message like that,” roared the Prior.
“And I’ll be shot if I bribe the pater to do anything for me!” stormed Casteno.
But even then I would not be gainsaid. In the end I carried my point, and the telegrams were despatched by special messenger to St. Martins-le-Grand, so that the recipients could not guess their place of origin.
Then, worn out with the adventures of the day, we all retired to our beds, and not until the morning was far advanced did José come to my room, and, whilst I struggled on the border line between sleep and consciousness, shake me violently by the shoulder.