“It would enable us to make our plans.  If it’s a life sentence, I shouldn’t worry about selecting my future career.”

“You see,” explained Ann, “I suppose they would hardly send me to prison, as I’m a relation—­though I would far rather go there than to grandmother’s.  She lives all alone miles away in the country, and is strong on discipline—­but they might do all sorts of things to you, in spite of my pleadings.  I really think you had better give up the idea, I’m afraid my enthusiasm carried me away.  I didn’t think of all this before.”

“Never.  This thing goes through, or fails over my dead body.  What are you looking for?”

Ann was deep in a bulky volume which stood on a lectern by the window.

“Catalogue,” she said briefly, turning the pages.  “Uncle Peter has heaps of law books.  I’ll look up kidnapping.  Here we are.  Law Encyclopedia.  Shelf X. Oh, that’s upstairs.  I shan’t be a minute.”

She ran to the little staircase, and disappeared.  Her voice came from the gallery.

“Here we are.  I’ve got it.”

“Shoot,” said Jimmy.

“There’s such a lot of it,” called the voice from above.  “Pages and pages.  I’m just skimming.  Wait a moment.”

A rustling followed from the gallery, then a sneeze.

“This is the dustiest place I was ever in,” said the voice.  “It’s inches deep everywhere.  It’s full of cigarette ends, too.  I must tell uncle.  Oh, here it is.  Kidnapping—­penalties—­”

“Hush” called Jimmy.  “There’s some one coming.”

The door opened.

“Hello,” said Ogden, strolling in.  “I was looking for you.  Didn’t think you would be here.”

“Come right in, my little man, and make yourself at home,” said Jimmy.

Ogden eyed him with disfavour.

“You’re pretty fresh, aren’t you?”

“This is praise from Sir Hubert Stanley.”

“Eh?  Who’s he?”

“Oh, a gentleman who knew what was what.”

Ogden closed the door.

“Well, I know what’s what, too.  I know what you are for one thing.”  He chuckled.  “I’ve got your number all right.”

“In what respect?”

Another chuckle proceeded from the bulbous boy.

“You think you’re smooth, don’t you?  But I’m onto you, Jimmy Crocker.  A lot of Jimmy Crocker you are.  You’re a crook.  Get me?  And I know what you’re after, at that.  You’re going to try to kidnap me.”

From the corner of his eye Jimmy was aware of Ann’s startled face, looking over the gallery rail and withdrawn hastily.  No sound came from the heights, but he knew that she was listening intently.

“What makes you think that?”

Ogden lowered himself into the depths of his favourite easy chair, and, putting his feet restfully on the writing-desk, met Jimmy’s gaze with a glassy but knowing eye.

“Got a cigarette?” he said.

“I have not,” said Jimmy.  “I’m sorry.”