If he had hated the thought of accepting protection from Mary Carstairs less intensely, he might have laughed aloud. As Higginson's catspaw, she was certainly the most screaming failure that the whole world could have yielded. What, oh what, would the old gum-shoe have said if he could have heard that invitation? "Thank you, but that is quite impossible." "I am awfully sorry." There was a faint stiffening in her manner. She began to draw on her right glove, slowly tucking out of sight the thumb with the tiny white spot on the nail. "I hoped that perhaps you might come to dinner with us. I haven't had any yet. May I--suggest another way out of all this, then? There is a back gate to this place, leading into a kind of alley, you know. I am sure that they--these poor men--haven't thought of that. Couldn't you please go out--" "Certainly," said Varney. "Certainly. Yes, indeed. I'll do anything--anything in the wide world to avoid getting thumped on the head with Mr. Hackley's walking-stick." Her face told him that she found his tone and manner somewhat disconcerting, but she took no notice of it otherwise. "I hope it won't be necessary to do anything more than that. But if it should be, I hope you'll do it. I'm afraid I've failed to make you see that this is really serious. Good-night." But Varney, having a question to ask her, could not let her go yet. "But--but," he said, hastily, "you must allow me to thank you--you and Mr. Higginson--" "The thanks are all Mr. Higginson's. I'm only a messenger--and besides, you aren't grateful at all, you know! You think we've all been _extremely_ intrusive!" She smiled brightly, bowed, and then was suddenly checked by a new thought. "Oh--I wonder if you would tell me something before I go?" "By all means," said Varney, having no idea whether he would or not. But the loud jangling whir of a telephone bell from the adjoining room cut into the air, drowning out conversation; and it rang on and on and on as though Central had had her orders. "I suppose I'll have to answer that to shut them up," he said. "Excuse me for the merest second, won't you?" He passed through into the brightly-lit business office beyond, and found the telephone, still ringing away on a desk at the farther end. Behind him the door swung shut, a circumstance for which he later had reason to be glad. "Well?" he called impatiently. "You, Larry?" asked a familiar voice. "Yes. What's the matter?" "Matter enough," said Peter in a guarded undertone. "Hammerton's loose." "_What_!" "It's a fact. God knows how he did it; but he's just phoned in here from a house a long way down the road. Wanted to let the city editor know he was flying in with the one best bet of the year. Luckily he gave no details." Varney's lips tightened; he spoke in a low voice. "He mustn't arrive--not till I've seen him first. Did you find out how he's coming--river or road?"