"No, no, of course not. I should never forgive myself. You must go.
Perhaps it is all the better that I did not know beforehand. It saves me
just that amount."

"We've no time to lose," remarked McVay briskly, "if we are going to try
for that afternoon train. I suppose we can get a sleigh at the
gardener's, Holland, if we can struggle as far as that. Well, well, we
must hurry off."

It was McVay who urged on the preparations for departure, hurrying his
sister, flitting about the house at such a rate that the detective, who
was of a solider build, found it hard to keep up with.

Nor was it only physical agility that McVay required of the unfortunate
man. Having overheard Geoffrey telling him that he was not to betray the
real state of things before Miss McVay, under penalty of losing his
money, McVay took special delight in making him look like a fool,
calling upon him to remember happenings which existed only in McVay's
own fertile brain.

"What, Hen," he would cry suddenly, "was the name of that pretty black
haired girl you were so sweet on,--you know, the daughter of the
canal-boat man."

The detective, looking very much alarmed, would of course reply that he
did not know what McVay was talking about.

"There, there," McVay would reply soothingly patting him on the
shoulder, "I'm not going into the story of the pink blanket. You can