“I haven’t the least idea,” said Mary again.  She was leaning forward now, listening intently, and watching Beaumaroy’s face with absorbed interest.

“Seventeen and three-quarter pounds avoirdupois—­that’s the correct weight.  The first time or two we didn’t get much—­they were still shy of us.  But after that we made some heavy; hauls.  Twice we brought down close on two thousand.  Once there was three thousand, almost to a sovereign.  Even men trained to the work—­bullion porters, as they call them at the Bank of England—­reckon five bags of a thousand, canvas bags not much short of a foot long and six inches across, you know—­they reckon five of them a full load—­and wouldn’t care to go far with them either.  The equivalent of three of them was quite enough for me to carry from Inkston station up to the Cottage—­trying to look as if I were carrying nothing of any account!  One hasn’t got to pretend to be carrying nothing in full marching kit—­nor to carry it all in one hand.  And he’d never trust himself in a cab—­might be kidnapped, you see!  I don’t know exactly, but from what he said I reckon we’ve brought down, on our Wednesday trips, about two-thirds of all he had.  Now you’ve probably gathered what his idea was.  He knew he was disguised as Saffron—­and very proud of the way he lived up to the character.  As Saffron, he realized the money by driblets—­turned his securities into notes, his notes into gold.  But he’d lost all knowledge that the money was his own—­made by himself—­himself Saffron.  He thought it was saved out of the wreck of his Imperial fortune.  It was to be dedicated to restoring the Imperial cause.  He himself could not attempt, at present, to get out of England, least of all carrying pots of gold coin.  But he believed that I could.  I was to go to Morocco and so on, and raise the country for him, taking as much as I could, and coming back for more!  He had no doubt at all of my coming back!  In fact it wouldn’t have been much easier for me to get out of the country with the money than it would have been for the authentic Kaiser himself.  But, Doctor Mary, what would have been possible was for me to go somewhere else, or even back to the places we knew of, for no questions were asked there—­put that money back into notes, or securities in my own name, and tell him I had carried out the Morocco programme.  He had no sense of time, he would have suspected nothing.”

“That would have been mere and sheer robbery,” said Mary.

“Oh yes, it would,” Beaumaroy agreed.  “And, if I’d done it, and deserted him, I should have deserved to be hanged.  That was hardly my question.  As long as he lived, I meant to stick by him; but he was turned seventy, frail, with heart-disease, and, as I understand, quite likely to sink into general paralysis.  Well, if I was to exercise my right of conquest and get the fruits of conquest, two ways seemed open.  There could be a will; you’ll remember my consulting you on that point and your reply?”