“But you heard him tell lies in court!” I gasped.  “You were there.  You heard his evidence absolutely disproved.  How do you explain that away?”

“I don’t attempt to!  The explanation is for you to make!” he answered. 
        “The fact that he did not succeed in proving his case against
you is nothing in itself!  Many a case in court is lost from lack of proper evidence!  And one more matter!  Lady Isobel Saffren Waldon is staying—­or rather, I should say, was staying at the hotel.  She is now staying at my house.  She complains to me of very rude treatment at the hands of you three men—­insolent treatment I should call it!  I can assure you that the way to get on in this Protectorate is not to behave like cads toward ladies of title!  I understand that her maid is afraid to be caught alone by any one of you, and that Lady Saffren Waldon herself feels scarcely any safer!”

Fred and I saw the humor of the thing, and that enabled us to save Will from disaster.  There never was a man more respectful of women than Will.  He would even get off the sidewalk for a black woman, and would neither tell nor laugh at the sort of stories that pass current about women in some smoking-rooms.  His hair bristled.  His ears stuck out on either side of his head.  He leaned forward—­laid one strong brown hand on the desk—­and shook his left fist under the collector’s nose.

“You poor boob!” he exploded.  Then he calmed himself.  “I’m sorry for your government if you’re the brightest jewel it has for this job!  That Jane will use everything you’ve got except the squeal!  Great suffering Jemima!  Your title is collector, is it?  Do you collect bugs by any chance?  You act like it!  So help you two men and a boy, a bughouse is where I believe you belong!  Come along, fellows, he’ll bite us if we stay!”

“Be advised” said the collector, leaning back in his chair and sneering.  “Behave yourselves!  This is no country for taking chances with the law!”

“Remember Courtney’s advice,” said Fred when we got outside.  “Suppose we give him a few days to learn the facts about Lady Isobel, and then go back and try him again?”

“Say!” answered Will, stopping and turning to face us.  “What d’you take me for?  I like my meals.  I like three squares a day, and tobacco, and now and then a drink.  But if this was the Sahara, and that man had the only eats and drinks, I’d starve.”

“Telling him the truth wouldn’t be accepting favors from him,” counseled Fred.

“I wouldn’t tell him the time!”

That attitude—­and Will insisted that all the officials in the land would prove alike—­limited our choice, for unless we were to allay official suspicion it would be hopeless to get away northward.  Southward into German East seemed the only way to go; there was apparently no law against travel in that direction.  On our way to the hotel we passed Coutlass, striding along smirking to himself, headed toward the office from which we had just come.