“Now, look here, old lady,” said the detective, “if what we’re aiming at doing comes to pass, _he_ won’t be in a position to be set on to anything but a galley bench. All you’ve got to do is to lie quiet and hold your mouth until you hear from us again; and then possibly, I say possibly, it may come to happen that you don’t hear from us at all.” She looked up with a sudden relief of craft in her watery eyes. “And my little settlement as I draw from his lawyers the deuce bless you, dears--it won’t be interfered with?--now say it won’t, dovies.” “Come, Jannaway!” said Mr Shapter sharply. She gathered herself together hurriedly, and got to her feet with a scrambling skip, and followed us protesting and entreating all down the passage. Finally, perceiving her prayers to be entirely disregarded, she slammed the door upon us with a screaming oath. Outside, the detective pondered me, grating his chin. “Well, sir,” he said, “that settles it. There’s no rope for his neck here. We’ll have to be satisfied with what Italy can give us in its place.” “Whatever that may be, it must fall far short of his deserts,” said Mr Shapter. “A very pretty scoundrel, on my honour. Well, Mr Gaskett--as I must still call you I suppose” (he took my arm, and we all set off on our way back to his office)--“so far, I think we may say so, excellently good. Whether Italy will confirm our claim, or fail of its evidence, remains to be seen. It would be a pity, apart from our more personal interest, if it did fail, because any such conclusion must mean the escape of a scoundrel of a very choice pattern. But we will hope for the best.” “Will it be necessary, do you think, to draw further upon Lady Skene’s parent?” “I hope not; I think not; family feelings must be respected. At the same time it must depend very largely upon the attitude which Lord Skene shall elect to adopt.” “Well, sir, when is it to be Italy, and for which of us?” “There must be a delay, I think, of a few days, while Scotland Yard communicates with Turin. Mr Dando insists upon accompanying us; so there will be for the venture he, you, I, Jannaway, and your witness--quite a little regiment--I trust not a forlorn hope. But it all turns upon the question of that marriage--its proof and legitimacy. A lot may come to perish in twenty years. That may stand for a text out of the criminal’s Vade-mecum. I daresay Mr Dalston nowadays is not troubled much with nightmare.” CHAPTER XXVII. CORRESPONDENCE I pause in the chase to jot down a note or two. It is when the quarry lies close, and the hounds are drawing cover, and a little breathing space is mine for rest and sentiment. A moment, and we shall be on again.