"Well, he didn't know what to do. I don't think he would have, only if it wasn't true it was so stupendous, you see. He hesitated, and that made him relax his watchfulness a little. So I gave him the slip and pawned part of my outfit, which we bought together the day before." "You bad boy!" "I left him a bit of a note. I told him that if he held his tongue I would surely be there again to-morrow, we'd get the things, and no one would be any the wiser. But if he made a row he might whistle for me, and catch me if he could." "And you don't know the effect of that, I suppose?" said Percival. "Well, no. I read it over when I'd done to try and judge it impartially. And I made up my mind--considering the character he'd had of me--that if I were Osborne I should say that Blake meant to back out of his bargain with all he could lay his hands on, and was trying to secure two days' start.--What do you think I did, Addie?" "Something silly, I've no doubt." "Well," he said, looking at her with an admiring gaze, which partly explained to Percival the secret of her fondness for her brother, "_I_ thought it was rather clever. I just popped in the letter I had from you, and your photograph, and if that doesn't convince him, I give him up." "Oh, Noll! How _could_ you? What is he like?" Blake burst out laughing: "Listen to her! A man has got her photograph: he instantly becomes an interesting object.--Oh, he isn't a bad-looking fellow, Addie. I dare say he's glaring at you now through his spectacles." "Spectacles! Oliver, you've no business to go giving my photograph to all sorts of people. And I hate him too, because if it hadn't been for him perhaps you wouldn't have been going away to Canada." "What then?" said he philosophically. "Your mother would have had a dear friend on the point of starting for the Cannibal Islands." Percival began to feel a little anxious about time, and to wonder when the real leave-taking was to commence. He looked at his watch after the manner of a stage-aside, and Addie took the hint. Five minutes later she came toward him with bent head and averted eyes: "I'm ready, Percival." But they had not gone a dozen steps when she sobbed, "Oh, my poor Noll!" and rushed back. As young Thorne looked after her he heard the quick spurt of a match. Oliver had turned on his heel already and was lighting his cigar. "Heartless brute!" said Percival. The verdict was unjust. Oliver had taken infinite pains to secure this glimpse of his sister, but since it was over it _was_ over. He loved her, and she knew it, but he was not the man to stand sentimentally staring at Addie's back as she disappeared into the shadows of Langley Wood. Now, Percival could not have failed in such a matter, though he might have thought no more about it than did Oliver Blake.