Starling moistened his lips rapidly.

“They set me free,” he muttered, “because one of their witnesses failed.  They had no case; they wouldn’t bring me up.  But I am still under surveillance.  The sergeant as good as told me that they’d have me before long.”

“Well, at present, I’ve got you,” Arnold said coolly.  “Have you any luggage?”

“No!  Why?”

“Because you are coming along with me.”

“Where?”

“I am taking you to Count Sabatini,” Arnold informed him.  “He is at his villa about ten miles down the river.”

Starling flopped upon his knees.

“For the love of God, don’t take me to him!” he begged.

“Why not?”

“He is a devil, that man,” Starling whispered, confidentially.  “He would blow out my brains or yours or his own, without a second’s hesitation, if it suited him.  He hasn’t any nerves nor any fear nor any pity.  He will laugh at me—­he won’t understand, he is so reckless!”

“Well, we’re going to him, anyhow,” Arnold said.  “I don’t see how you can be any worse off than hiding in this beastly place.  Upstairs and into the boat, please.”

Starling struggled weakly to get away but he was like a child in Arnold’s hands.

“You had much better come quietly,” the latter advised.  “You’ll have to come, anyway, and if you’re really afraid of being arrested again, I should think Count Sabatini would be the best man to aid your escape.”

“But he won’t let me escape,” Starling protested.  “He doesn’t understand danger.  I am not made like him.  My nerve has gone.  I came into this too late in life.”

“Jump!” Arnold ordered, linking his arm into his companion’s.

They landed, somehow, upon the island.  Arnold pointed to the boat.

“Please be sensible,” he begged, “now, at any rate.  There may be people passing at any moment.”

“I was safe in there,” Starling mumbled.  “Why the devil couldn’t you have left me alone?”

Arnold bent over his oars.

“Safe!” he repeated, contemptuously.  “You were doing the one thing which a guilty man would do.  People would have known before long that you were there, obviously hiding.  I think that Count Sabatini will propose something very much better.”

“Perhaps so,” Starling muttered.  “Perhaps he will help me to get away.”

They reached the village and Arnold paid for the hire of his boat.  Then he hurried Starling into the car, and a moment or two later they were off.

“Is it far away?” Starling asked, nervously.

“Ten minutes’ ride.  Sabatini has arranged it all very well.  We get out, cross a meadow, and find him waiting for us in the punt.”

“You won’t leave me alone with him on the river?” Starling begged.

“No, I shall be there,” Arnold promised.

“There’s nothing would suit him so well,” Starling continued, “as to see me down at the bottom of the Thames, with a stone around my neck.  I tell you I’m frightened of him.  If I can get out of this mess,” he went on, “I’m off back to New York.  Any job there is better than this.  What are we stopping for?  Say, what’s wrong now?”