“Yes, very serious consequences. For myself I don’t care very much, but for another—a woman—it would, alas! be fatal,” he added hoarsely.
A woman! Did he refer to that remarkable adventuress, details of whose strange career I had read in that old copy of the newspaper?
I remembered that Arnold, in his letter to me, had appealed to me to assist this man—who was evidently his very intimate friend.
“You must evade this person who is watching,” I said. “How can it be done?”
He shrugged his shoulders with an expression indicative of bewilderment.
A sudden thought occurred to me.
“You and I are about the same build. Could we not exchange clothes?” I suggested. “At Exeter, you could walk up to the front of the train and escape away, and out of the station, while I will still sit here, my back turned towards the window. The detective will believe you to be still in the train.”
“Capital?” he cried, starting up. “A splendid plan, Mr Kemball! By Jove! you are resourceful!” And he began quickly divesting himself of coat and trousers. “This train is express to Exeter, therefore we shall not stop at either Teignmouth or Dawlish.” I threw off my coat, vest, cravat, and trousers, and in five minutes had exchanged my garments for his, and had assumed the scarlet tie in place of my own, while he, on his part, got into my suit, which, however, seemed slightly tight for him. He laughed heartily as we stood regarding each other so quickly transformed.
I assumed the grey suède gloves, slightly large for me, tilted the smart grey hat a little over my eyes, and then ensconced myself against the corridor, so that my back only could be visible when the train drew up at St. David’s Station in Exeter.
Dawnay went out into the corridor to observe the effect critically.