ancied that I
recognised his voice. I think it would be as well for you to speak,
sir."

Lady Cynthia sank into a chair.

"You shall go and answer your telephone call," she said, "and leave
Hedges to serve me with one of these strange drinks. I believe I see
some of my favourite orangeade."

Sir Timothy made his way into the house and into the low, oak-beamed
study with its dark furniture and latticed windows. The telephone bell
began to ring again as he entered. He took up the receiver.

"Sir Timothy?" a rather hoarse, strained voice asked.

"I am speaking," Sir Timothy replied. "Who is it?"

The man at the other end spoke as though he were out of breath.
Nevertheless, what he said was distinct enough.

"I am John Walter."

"Well?"

"I am just ringing you up," the voice went on, "to give you what's
called a sporting chance. There's a boat from Southampton midday
tomorrow. If you're wise, you'll catch it. Or better still, get off on
your own yacht. They carry a wireless now, these big steamers. Don't
give a criminal much of a chance, does it?"

"I am to understand, then," Sir Timothy said calmly, "that you have laid
your information?"

"I've parted with it and serve you right," was the bitter reply. "I'm
not saying that you're not a brave man, Sir Timothy, but there's such a
thing as being foolhardy, and that's what you are. I wasn't asking you
for half your fortune, nor even a dab of it, but if your life wasn't
worth a few hundred pounds--you, with all that money--well, it wasn't
worth saving. So now you know. I've spent ninepence to give you a chance
to hop it, because I met a gent who has been good to me. I've had a good
dinner and I feel merciful. So there you are."

"Do I gather," Sir Timothy asked, in a perfectly level tone, "that the
deed is already done?"

"It's already done and done thoroughly," was the uncompromising answer.
"I'm not ringing up to ask you to change your mind. If you were to offer
me five thousand now, or ten, I couldn't stop the bally thing. You've a
sporting chance of getting away if you start at once. That's all there
is to it."

"You have nothing more to say?"

"Nothing! Only I wish to God I'd never stepped into that Mayfair agency.
I wish I'd never gone to Mrs. Hilditch's as a temporary butler. I wish
I'd never seen any one of you! That's all. You can go to Hell which way
you like, only, if you take my advice, you'll go by the way of South
America. The scaffold isn't e