“Oh, they are, are they?” sneered Mr. Githens, with a sinister chuckle.

“Who the devil are you, sir?”

“I’m from Scotland Yard.”

“I thought so.  You’ve proved it, ’pon my soul.  I am Odell-Carney.  Daresay you’ve heard of me.”

“I know you by sight, sir.  But that—­”

“Clever chap, by Jove!  And there’s no but about it.  Mr.—­Mr.—­never mind what it is.  I don’t want to know your name.  Mrs. Medcroft, will you permit me to send my wife up to you?  Mr. Manager, I insist that you take this c’nfended rabble down to the office and tell them to go to the devil?  Don’t do it up here; do it down there.”

After some further discussion and protest, the Scotland Yard man and his party left the room to its distracted mistress.  It may be well to remark, for the sake of local colour, that Tootles was crying lustily, while Raggles barked in spite of all that O’Brien could do to stop him.

Odell-Carney sent his wife to Edith.  A few minutes later, as he was making his way to the office, he came upon Mrs. Rodney and Katherine, hurrying, white-faced, to their rooms.

“Oh, isn’t it dreadful?” wailed the former, putting her clenched hands to her temples.

“Isn’t wot dreadful?” demanded he brutally.

“About Edith!  They’re going to arrest her.”

“Not if I can help it, madam.  Where is Mr. Rodney?”

“He hasn’t anything to do with it!  We’re as innocent as children unborn.  It’s all shocking to us.  Mr. Rodney shouldn’t be arrested.  His rectitude is without a flaw.  For heaven’s sake, don’t implicate him.  He’s—­”

“Madam, I am not a policeman,” said Odell-Carney with scathing dignity.  “I want your husband to aid me in hushing this c’nfended thing.”

“He shan’t do it!  I won’t permit him to be mixed up in it,” almost screamed Mrs. Rodney.  “I’ve just heard that he isn’t a husband at all.  It’s atrocious!”

“Bless me, Mrs. Rodney,” roared Odell-Carney, “then you oughtn’t to be living with him if he isn’t your husband.  You’re as bad as—­ Hi, look out, there!  Don’t do that!” Mrs. Rodney had collapsed into her daughter’s arms, gasping for breath.

“She’s all upset, Mr. Odell-Carney,” said Katherine, shaking her mother soundly.  “It’s just nerves.  If you see papa, send him to us.  We must take the first train for—­for anywhere.  Will you tell Mrs. Odell-Carney that if she’ll get ready at once, papa will see to the tickets.”

“Tickets?  But, my dear young lady, we’re not going anywhere.  We’re going to stay here and see your cousin out of her troubles.  My wife is with her now.”

He started away as Mr. Rodney came puffing up the stairs.  Odell-Carney changed his mind and waited.

“Where’s Edith?” panted Mr. Rodney.

“Good heavens!” groaned his wife, lowering her voice because three chambermaids were looking on from a near-by turn.  “Don’t mention that creature’s name.  Just think what she’s got us into.  He isn’t her husband.  Alfred, telephone for tickets on to-night’s train.  To-morrow will be too late.  I won’t stay here another minute.  Everybody in the hotel is talking.  We’ll all be arrested.”