“You wouldn’t, only you wanted somebody to stand by you in case anything went wrong. That is, anything but you.” Gordon glared at him. “I shall not go wrong, believe me!” “I don’t,” said Bobbie. And then, hastily: “At least, I do, but nobody else would.” “You can’t understand these--it’s a hateful word, but there is no better--affinities,” said Gordon, “these understandings and yearnings for something which--which--well, somebody else can’t give you. Some magic that draws a man’s confidence and kills all sense of time and obligation.” Bobbie nodded wisely. “I know--a woman.” Gordon stood erect. “Bobbie,” he said awfully, “I tell you this is not an affair--at any rate, it is different from other kinds of affairs.” “So are all other kinds of affairs,” said Bobbie. “That’s why the judges have been working overtime. I dare say I _am_ cynical: I can afford to be, I’m a bachelor. The lady has a husband?” “Heloise is married,” said Gordon gravely. “Heloise? I must remember that name. And Trenter, I presume, is going into the country to post the necessary telegrams to give verisimilitude to an otherwise unconvincing narrative. I hate quoting Gilbert at you, but the situation is a little Gilbertian. What is she like?” Gordon was not inclined to particularise. “Of course, if you’re going to make trouble----” “Don’t be an ass,” said Bobbie. “I’m not going to give you away because, for some extraordinary reason, I believe you.” A knock at the door: it was Eleanor. “Will you see Mr. Superbus?” she said. “No,” snapped Gordon. “Get me a cab.” “Who’s Mr. Superbus?” “He’s the detective I told you about; the man that is watching for Double Dan.” Bobbie whistled: it was an exasperating trick of his. “Double Dan? By Jove! I didn’t think of him. Gordon, you’re taking a risk. Is there any money in the house?” “I told you.” “You keep telling me you’ve told me things. I think your mind is wandering.” “There’s fifty thousand dollars in the safe. Diana’s looking after it. The combination word is ‘Telma’--I told her, and I might as well tell you. It is for Tilmet, who’s calling on Sunday, but Diana will look after that.” “Double Dan,” repeated Bobbie softly. “And you’re the very bird he could impersonate to the life! Sometimes I do it myself unconsciously. A little pomp, a little strut, a little preciousness of speech----” Gordon waved him out of the room. He had reached the limit of his patience. Diana was out when he came down, and he was not sorry. Also, the telephone receiver was on the table; he replaced it in the hook. “Where is Miss Ford?” he asked. “Miss Ford had to go out. She asked me to say good-bye to you, sir,” said Eleanor. “Will you see Mr. Superbus?” “No, I will not see Mr. Superbus. Tell him--well, tell him anything you like. I’ve got a train to catch.”