"Now, back you go, my lads, and don't worry. Leave it to old Dan to fix Jack o' Judgment, or Bill o' Judgment, or Tom o' Judgment, whoever he may be, and that we'll fix him you can be certain." Coming away from the meeting, he expressed himself as being perfectly satisfied with its results. He brought Pinto and Crewe back with him in his car, and dropped the latter at Piccadilly Circus. Pinto would have been glad to have joined the "Swell," but the colonel detained him. "I want to talk to you, Pinto," he said. "I've had enough business for to-day," said the Portuguese. "So have I," said the colonel, "but that doesn't prevent my attending to pressing affairs. I was talking to you to-day--or was it yesterday?--about Crotin." "The Yorkshire woollen merchant?" said Pinto. "That's the fellow," replied the colonel. "I suggested you should go and see him." "And I suggested that I shouldn't," said Pinto; "let him rest. You'll never get another chance like you had before." "Rest nothing," said the colonel testily, "you're scared because you imagine Crotin is warned? What do you think?" Pinto was silent. "I suppose you think that, because Jack o' Judgment intervened at the right moment, he went back to Yorkshire feeling full of himself? Well, you're wrong. You don't understand one side of the psychology of this business. That little fellow is quaking in his shoes and wondering what his grand wife would say if the fact that he was a bigamist was revealed. And there's more reason for his fear to-day than ever there was. Look here!" He took a newspaper out of his pocket and Pinto remembered that, even during the meeting, the colonel had twice made reference to its columns and had wondered why. He had suspected that there had been some reference to the Boundary Gang, but this was not the case. The paragraph which the colonel pointed out with his thick forefinger was this: "By the death of Sir George Tressillian Morgan an ancient baronetcy has become extinct. His estate, which has been sworn at over a million, passes to his niece, Lady Sybil Crotin, the daughter of Lord Westsevern, Sir George's son and heir having been killed in the war. Lady Sybil is the wife of a well-known Yorkshire mill-owner." "I didn't know that," said Pinto, interested in spite of himself. "Nor did I till to-day," said the colonel. "The fact is, this damned Jack o' Judgment has put everything else out of our minds. And you can see for yourself, Pinto, that this business is important." Pinto nodded. "We are not only after the mill, but here's a chance of making a real big coup. Now I can't send anybody else to Yorkshire--Crewe is impossible. Crotin knows him, and the moment he puts in an appearance, as likely as not Crotin would lose his head and give the whole show away. It is you or nobody." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.