“Which means that you had better leave England for a considerable time.”
“What!” cried Statham, in quick reproof. “What—run away? Never!”
“But—well, in the circumstances, don’t you scent danger—a very grave danger?” asked the old servant whose devotion to his master had always been so marked.
“When I am threatened I always face my accuser. I shall do so now,” was the great man’s calm reply, even though it were in absolute contradiction to his attitude only a few moments before. Perhaps it was that he did not wish old Levi to know his fear.
“But—but that can only result in disaster,” remarked the old servant, who never addressed his master as “sir”—the pair were on too intimate terms for that. “If I might presume to advise, I think—”
“No, Levi,” snapped the other; “you haven’t any right to give advice in this affair. I know my own business best, surely?”
“And that man knows as much as you do—and more.”
“They told me he was alive, and I—fool that I was—disbelieved them!” the old millionaire cried. “And there he is now, watching outside like a terrier outside a rat-hole. And I’m the rat, Levi—caught in my own trap!”
“Is there no way out of this?” asked the other. “Surely you can escape if you so desire—get away to America, or to the Continent.”
“And what’s the use. He’d follow. And even if he didn’t, think of what he can tell if he goes to the police.”