Sipping the grateful drink which O'Hagan presently brought him, the young
man pondered the case; with no pleasure in the prospect he foresaw. If
Higgins had actually communicated the fact of Anisty's escape to the
police, the entire affair was like to come out in the papers,--all of
it, that is, that he could not suppress. But even figuring that he could
silence Higgins and O'Hagan,--no difficult task: though he might be
somewhat late with Higgins,--the most discreet imaginable explanation of
his extraordinary conduct would make him the laughing stock of his circle
of friends, to say nothing of a city that had been accustomed to speak of
him as "Mad Maitland," for many a day. Unless....

Ah, he had it! He could pretend (so long as it suited his purpose, at all
events), to have been the man caught and left bound in Higgins' care.
Simple enough: the knocking over of the butler would be ascribed to a
natural ebullition of indignation, the subsequent flight to a hare-brained
notion of running down the thief. And yet even that explanation had its
difficulties. How was he to account for the fact that he had failed to
communicate with the police--knowing that his treasure had been ravished?

It was all very involved. Mr. Maitland returned the glass to O'Hagan
and, cradling his head in his hands, racked his brains in vain for a
satisfactory tale to tell. There were so many things to be taken into
consideration. There was the girl in grey....

Not that he had forgotten her for an instant; his fury raged but the higher
at the thought that Anisty's interference had prevented his (Maitland's)
keeping the engagement. Doubtless the girl had waited, then gone away in
anger, believing that the man in whom she had placed faith had proved
himself unworthy. And so he had lost her for ever, in all likelihood: they