“Lucy!” she corrected him.  “I’m not going to call you Mr. Foster.  You’re our friend—­mother’s and mine—–­as well as Lawrence’s.”  She stopped and shuddered.  “But you shall not make a joke of what you did!  What might have happened won’t bear thinking of.  If you hadn’t come in time!”

Foster, seeing her emotion, glanced at Mrs. Stephen, begging her to interfere, but her strained look indicated that her feelings harmonized with the girl’s.  Then Lawrence interposed with a grin—­

“Jake always does come in time—­that’s one of his virtues.  He’s the kind of man who’s there when he’s wanted.  I don’t know how he does it, because he’s not really clever.”

“Lawrence,” said Lucy severely, “sometimes you’re not as humorous as you think.”

“Then I hope I’m tactful, because you’re making poor Jake feel horribly awkward.  I believe he thought you wanted to kiss him and was very nearly running away.”

Lucy blushed and Lawrence resumed:  “He can’t deny it; Jake, you know you would have run away!  However, I knew what I was doing when I made him my partner some time ago.  Jake has a romantic imagination that now and then leads him into trouble, but although it’s perhaps as much luck as genius, when he undertakes a thing he puts it over.  For example, there was the sawmill——­”

Lucy stopped him with a gesture.  “We are not going to talk about the sawmill.  It was your—­I mean our—­troubles Jake plunged into, and pluck that can’t be daunted is better than genius.  But you’re an English Borderer and therefore half a Scot; you hate to let people guess your feelings.”

“Jake kens,” said Lawrence, smiling.  “Before very long you’ll be a Borderer, too.”

Lucy’s eyes were very soft as she turned to Foster.  “Then I must adopt their customs.  I think they have a motto, ‘Dinna’ forget.’”

To Foster’s relief, the hotel manager came in and looked at the two ladies hesitatingly.  Neither took the hint and Lucy said, rather sharply, “Well?”

“Mr. Walters has come round and demands to be let out of his room.  Your man’s there, Mr. Foster, and won’t let him move.”

“Pete’s splendid!” said Lucy.  “I haven’t thanked him yet.  Perhaps you had better go, Lawrence, but take Jake.”

Foster beckoned the manager and when they were outside asked:  “When do you expect the police?”

“Some time to-morrow.”

“Then we must watch the fellow closely until they come.”

They stopped at a room on the second floor, and the manager frowned when he turned the handle of the door, which would not open.

“Wha’s there the noo?” a sharp voice demanded.

Foster laughed as he answered, the door was opened, and they saw Walters, who looked much the worse for the struggle, lying on a couch, while Pete stood grimly on guard.  Walters glanced at Foster.

“You’re something of a surprise,” he said.  “We didn’t expect much from you.”