Chapter XXIV

Gunner Haynes and his guest sat in conference. Luke was still feeling the effect of the drug: his head throbbed at the slightest noise, and during the day he had consumed uncountable quantities of tea.

“There’s the situation,” said Haynes. “Connor knows who you are. Naturally, I am not blaming you for telling him, though you could not have expected him to believe you were a man of substance----”

“Not so very substantial,” smiled Luke. “You wired to my wife, you say?”

The Gunner nodded.

“I sent a telegram in Connor’s name, putting off the appointment,” he said. “I should imagine it was not till night, because Connor would not risk detectives seeing Mrs. Maddison go into his wharf. If she doesn’t turn up, Connor will naturally make a call on her to-morrow; but a lot of things might happen before then.”

“Suppose I saw Bird----” began Luke.

The Gunner shook his head.

“I’ve no great love for the police, although I’ve a mighty respect for the Sparrow,” he said. “But I can tell you this, that if you were the Duke of Oojah they would have to pinch you for that raid on Taffanny’s. You see, your fatal mistake was to give the shop assistant a punch on the jaw. That made you a willing agent in the matter. If you’d stepped out of the car and given the lady into custody, and then explained your position, there would have been no harm except a few flaring headlines in the evening newspapers. But you didn’t. You became an accessory the moment you gave the shop assistant a punch and assisted your lady friend to escape. Anyway, whatever happens, you couldn’t escape a lot of unpleasant publicity--or your wife either. That seems to me the one thing you do not wish. No, I’ve got to find another way of getting you back into society.”

His lips curled at the word; he was evidently secretly amused.

“But if Connor sees my wife to-morrow, what then?” asked Luke.

The Gunner considered this question for a little time.

“He mustn’t see her. I think that can be managed. It is a pity the Sparrow arrived when he did--otherwise, I should have had the solution in both hands. As it is, I don’t think we shall have a great deal of difficulty.”

He knelt down at the side of Luke’s bed, groped beneath and pulled out the case of a portable typewriter. This he unfastened, and, putting the little machine on the table, he took a sheet of paper and began to type laboriously.…

Connor, striding impatiently up and down his room, looking from time to time at his watch, heard a knock at the gate and ran eagerly to open the wicket. It was a small boy with a letter. Connor snatched it from the boy, slammed the wicket in his face and went back to his room.

The letter was typewritten and began without preamble.

I’m afraid I can’t come to see you to-night. The neighbourhood is so dreadfully squalid that I fear my presence would be noticed by the police. Can you meet me by the edge of the Serpentine at ten o’clock to-night (about a hundred paces from the bridge: there will be nobody there at that time)? But you must supply me proof that my husband is the man about whom you are speaking.

It bore no signature, but there was a postscript.

P.S. I do hope you have not told a man named Haynes this story about Mr. Maddison. He called to-day, but I would not see him.

Connor smiled. The Gunner was certainly a quick worker.