ike
this--when we had built a safe bridge, and my own stupidity has
hacked it down--Faugh! I tell you I could kick myself. Didn't you
hear? Didn't you see?"

"I saw that for some special reason you were suddenly obsessed with
a desire to get out of the house in the midst of your talking with
Miss Renfrew, if that's what you refer to--is it?"

"Not altogether. It's part of it, however. But not the worst part,
unfortunately. It was at that moment then the recollection of my
indiscretion came to me and I realized what a dolt I had been--how
completely I had destroyed our splendid security, wrecked what
little still remains of this glorious holiday--when I couldn't let
'George Headland' have the centre of the stage, but needs must come
in like the hero of a melodrama and announce myself as Cleek. To
Nosworth and his wife! To Nippers! To all that gaping crowd! You
remember that incident, surely?"

"Yes. Of course I do. But what of it?"

"What of it? Man alive, with a chap like that Nippers, how long do
you suppose it will remain a secret that Cleek is in Yorkshire?
In the West Riding of it? In this particular locality? Travelling
about with Mr. Maverick Narkom in a caravan--a _caravan_ that can't
cover five miles of country in the time a train or a motor car is
able to get over fifty!"

"Good lud! I never thought of that. But wait a bit. There's a way to
overcome that difficulty, of course. Stop here a minute or two and
I'll run back and pledge that Nippers fool to keep his mouth shut
about it. He'll give me his promise, _I_ know."

"To be sure he will. But how long do you suppose he will keep it?
How long do you suppose that an empty-headed, gabbling old fool
like that fellow will refrain from increasing his own importance
in the neighbourhood by swaggering about and boasting of his
intimacy with the powers at Scotland Yard and--the rest of it? And
even if he shouldn't, what about the others? The gathering of
rustics that heard what he heard? The gamekeepers from the Droger
estate? The Nosworths, as well as they? Can their mouths, too, be
shut? They will not love me for this night's business, be sure.
Then, too, they have lived in Paris. The woman is French by birth.
Of Montmartre--of the Apache class, the Apache kind--and she
will know of the 'Cracksman,' be assured. So will her husband.
And they won't take their medicine lying down, believe me. An
accused man has the right to communicate with counsel, remember;