they were true. What do I see
when I reach London? Why, Copley with a set of offices in the
city--Copley with a suite of rooms at a palatial hotel--Copley with a
place in the country and a string of race-horses. Oh, I tell you, Mr.
Fielden--Field, I mean--I rubbed my hands when I heard of it. Thinks I
to myself, 'This is a better game than handing Copley over to the South
African police.' I don't quite know yet how Copley has managed it, but
here he is ruffling it with the best, spending money like water, and
going to marry the daughter of a baronet in these parts."

Fielden's face flushed angrily. He winced at this home thrust on
Phillips' part. So already people were coupling May Haredale's name with
Copley. It had not occurred to him that things had gone as far as that.
However, Phillips could not be expected to know this. He was merely
innocently repeating local gossip.

"I suppose you mean to have some of this money?" he asked.

"If you don't mind my using the expression, I am going to blackmail
Copley. I am not afraid of the blackguard here. There is no chance of
his trying on any of his murderous tricks in England. He knows I have
come back, but as yet I have not waited upon him. I have had a hint to
call from Foster, but I am not taking any of that, thank you. You don't
catch me dropping into a police trap with a chance of being prosecuted
and hustled out of the country before I know where I am. When I do
strike it will be in a different way altogether. For the present, I have
been looking around asking questions, because, you see, it will be of
considerable advantage to me to find out where Copley is getting his
money. That he is earning it honestly I don't believe. He couldn't do it
if he wanted to. He is the sort of blackguard who would rather make five
pounds dishonestly than a tenner by legitimate business."

"I suppose you never found those plans?" Fielden asked.

Phillips swore heartily.

"Never, sir," he said. "They were in my portmanteau, as you know. I had
the portmanteau in my possession when those blackguards attacked me, and
they had to levant without it, so closely were they pressed. But when I
was well again I asked for my baggage and no one could tell me what had
become of it. It vanished in a most mysterious manner. If you ask me,
the portmanteau was stolen by one of those thievish Kaffre boys. It
makes me wild when I think of it. Probably it is concealed in a Kaffre
hut. In the old portm