Lord Wisbeach capitulated.

“I don’t know what fool game you think you’re playing, but I can’t see why you couldn’t have told me this when we were talking after lunch.”

“Never mind.  I had my reasons.  They don’t matter.  What matters is that you are going to get out of here to-morrow.  Do you understand that?”

“I get you.”

“Then that’s about all, I think.  Don’t let me keep you.”

“Say, listen.”  Gentleman Jack’s voice was plaintive.  “I think you might give a fellow a chance to get out good.  Give me time to have a guy in Montreal send me a telegram telling me to go up there right away.  Otherwise you might just as well put the cops on me at once.  The old lady knows I’ve got business in Canada.  You don’t need to be rough on a fellow.”

Jimmy pondered this point.

“All right.  I don’t object to that.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t start anything, though.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Jimmy pointed to the safe.

“Come, come, friend of my youth.  We have no secrets from each other.  I know you’re after what’s in there, and you know that I know.  I don’t want to harp on it, but you’ll be spending to-night in the house, and I think you had better make up your mind to spend it in your room, getting a nice sleep to prepare you for your journey.  Do you follow me, old friend?”

“I get you.”

“That will be all then, I think.  Wind a smile around your neck and recede.”

The door slammed.  Lord Wisbeach had restrained his feelings successfully during the interview, but he could not deny himself that slight expression of them.  Jimmy crossed the room and took his coat from the chair where the other had dropped it.  As he did so a voice spoke.

“Say!”

Jimmy spun round.  The room was apparently empty.  The thing was beginning to assume an uncanny aspect, when the voice spoke again.

“You think you’re darned funny, don’t you?”

It came from above.  Jimmy had forgotten the gallery.  He directed his gaze thither, and perceived the heavy face of Ogden hanging over the rail like a gargoyle.

“What are you doing there?” he demanded.

“Listening.”

“How did you get there?”

“There’s a door back here that you get to from the stairs.  I often come here for a quiet cigarette.  Say, you think yourself some josher, don’t you, telling me you were a kidnapper!  You strung me like an onion.  So you’re really Jimmy Crocker after all?  Where was the sense in pulling all that stuff about taking me away and divvying up the ransom?  Aw, you make me tired!”

The head was withdrawn, and Jimmy heard heavy steps followed by the banging of a door.  Peace reigned in the library.

Jimmy sat down in the chair which was Mr. Pett’s favourite and which Ogden was accustomed to occupy to that gentleman’s displeasure.  The swiftness of recent events had left him a little dizzy, and he desired to think matters over and find out exactly what had happened.