"It was worth trying the bluff, I guess, but it won't work. I know you'd be glad to get me out of this house, but you've got to make a better play than that to do it." "Don't deceive yourself with the idea that I'm bluffing. Look here." He suddenly removed his coat and threw it to Lord Wisbeach. "Read the tailor's label inside the pocket. See the name. Also the address. 'J. Crocker. Drexdale House. Grosvenor Square. London.'" Lord Wisbeach picked up the garment and looked as directed. His face turned a little sallower, but he still fought against his growing conviction. "That's no proof." "Perhaps not. But, when you consider the reputation of the tailor whose name is on the label, it's hardly likely that he would be standing in with an impostor, is it? If you want real proof, I have no doubt that there are half a dozen men working on the _Chronicle_ who can identify me. Or are you convinced already?" Lord Wisbeach capitulated. "I don't know what fool game you think you're playing, but I can't see why you couldn't have told me this when we were talking after lunch." "Never mind. I had my reasons. They don't matter. What matters is that you are going to get out of here to-morrow. Do you understand that?" "I get you." "Then that's about all, I think. Don't let me keep you." "Say, listen." Gentleman Jack's voice was plaintive. "I think you might give a fellow a chance to get out good. Give me time to have a guy in Montreal send me a telegram telling me to go up there right away. Otherwise you might just as well put the cops on me at once. The old lady knows I've got business in Canada. You don't need to be rough on a fellow." Jimmy pondered this point. "All right. I don't object to that." "Thanks." "Don't start anything, though." "I don't know what you mean." Jimmy pointed to the safe. "Come, come, friend of my youth. We have no secrets from each other. I know you're after what's in there, and you know that I know. I don't want to harp on it, but you'll be spending to-night in the house, and I think you had better make up your mind to spend it in your room, getting a nice sleep to prepare you for your journey. Do you follow me, old friend?" "I get you." "That will be all then, I think. Wind a smile around your neck and recede." The door slammed. Lord Wisbeach had restrained his feelings successfully during the interview, but he could not deny himself that slight expression of them. Jimmy crossed the room and took his coat from the chair where the other had dropped it. As he did so a voice spoke. "Say!" Jimmy spun round. The room was apparently empty. The thing was beginning to assume an uncanny aspect, when the voice spoke again. "You think you're darned funny, don't you?" It came from above. Jimmy had forgotten the gallery. He directed his gaze thither, and perceived the heavy face of Ogden hanging over the rail like a gargoyle. "What are you doing there?" he demanded. "Listening." "How did you get there?"