man as though we were both equally in the dark. It seemed a duty, after blundering into his affairs as I had done. But that very week brought forth developments which made a necessary end of all such scruples.
I was interviewing one of our foremen in a house that had to be ready by half-quarter-day, when Delavoye came in with a gleaming eye to tell me I was wanted.
"It's about our friend Royle," he added, trying not to crow. "I was perfectly right. They're on his tracks already!"
"Who are?" I demanded, when we were out of earshot of the men.
"Well, only one fellow so far, but he's breathing blood-hounds and Scotland Yard! It's Coysh, the trick-bicycle inventor; you must know the lunatic by name; but let me tell you that he sounds unpleasantly sane about your limb of the law. A worse case - - "
"Where is he?" I interrupted hotly. "And what the devil does he want with me?"
"Thinks you can help him put salt on the bird that's flown, as sort of clerk to the whole aviary! I found him pounding at your office door. He'd been down to Royle's and found it all shut up, of course - like his office in town, he says! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Gilly! It's a clear case, I'm afraid, but you'd better have it from the fountain-head. I said I thought I could unearth you, and he's waiting outside for you now."
I looked through a window with a scroll of whitewash on the pane. In the road a thick-set man was fanning his big head with a wide soft hat, which I could not but notice that he wore with a morning coat and brown boots. The now eminent engineer is not much more conventional than the hot-headed patentee who in those days had still to find himself (and had lately been looking in the wrong place, with a howling Press at his heels). But even then the quality of the man outshone the eccentricities of the super-crank. And I had a taste of it that August morning; a foretaste, when I looked into the road and saw worry and distress where I expected only righteous indignation.
I went down and asked him in, and his face lit up like a stormy sunbeam. But the most level-headed man in England could not have come to the point in fewer words or a more temperate tone.
"I'm glad your friend has told you what I've come about. I'm a plain speaker, Mr. Gillon, and I shall be plainer with you than I've been with him, because he tells me you know Abercromby Royle. In that case you won't start a scandal - because to know the fellow is to like him - and I only hope it may prove in your power to prevent one."
"I'll do anything I can, Mr. Coysh," I went so far as to say. But I was already taken by surprise. And so, I could see, was Uvo Delavoye.
"I'll hold you to that," said Coysh frankly. "When did you see him last, Mr. Gillon?"
"Do you mean Mr. Royle?" I stammered, turning away from Delavoye. If only he had not been there!
"Of course I do; and let me tell you, Mr. Gillon, this is a serious matter for the man, you know. You won't improve his chances by keeping anything back. When did you see him last?"
"Monday night," I mumbled.
But Delavoye heard.
"Monday night?" he interjected densely. "Why, it was on Monday he went away!"
"Exactly - by the last train."
"But we heard they'd gone hours before!"
"We heard wrong, so far as Royle was concerned. I came across him after I left you, and I saw him off myself."
Coysh had a sharp eye on both of us, and Delavoye's astonishment was not lost upon him. But it was at me that he looked last and longest.
"And you keep this to yourself from Monday night till now?"
"What's about it?" I demanded, falling into my own vernacular in my embarrassment.
"It only looks rather as though you were behind the scenes," replied Coysh simply. And his honesty called to mine.
"Well, so I was, to a certain extent," I cried; "but I got there by accident, I blundered in where I wasn't wanted, and yet the fellow treated me like a gentleman! That's why I never gave it away. But," I added with more guile, "there was
I was interviewing one of our foremen in a house that had to be ready by half-quarter-day, when Delavoye came in with a gleaming eye to tell me I was wanted.
"It's about our friend Royle," he added, trying not to crow. "I was perfectly right. They're on his tracks already!"
"Who are?" I demanded, when we were out of earshot of the men.
"Well, only one fellow so far, but he's breathing blood-hounds and Scotland Yard! It's Coysh, the trick-bicycle inventor; you must know the lunatic by name; but let me tell you that he sounds unpleasantly sane about your limb of the law. A worse case - - "
"Where is he?" I interrupted hotly. "And what the devil does he want with me?"
"Thinks you can help him put salt on the bird that's flown, as sort of clerk to the whole aviary! I found him pounding at your office door. He'd been down to Royle's and found it all shut up, of course - like his office in town, he says! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Gilly! It's a clear case, I'm afraid, but you'd better have it from the fountain-head. I said I thought I could unearth you, and he's waiting outside for you now."
I looked through a window with a scroll of whitewash on the pane. In the road a thick-set man was fanning his big head with a wide soft hat, which I could not but notice that he wore with a morning coat and brown boots. The now eminent engineer is not much more conventional than the hot-headed patentee who in those days had still to find himself (and had lately been looking in the wrong place, with a howling Press at his heels). But even then the quality of the man outshone the eccentricities of the super-crank. And I had a taste of it that August morning; a foretaste, when I looked into the road and saw worry and distress where I expected only righteous indignation.
I went down and asked him in, and his face lit up like a stormy sunbeam. But the most level-headed man in England could not have come to the point in fewer words or a more temperate tone.
"I'm glad your friend has told you what I've come about. I'm a plain speaker, Mr. Gillon, and I shall be plainer with you than I've been with him, because he tells me you know Abercromby Royle. In that case you won't start a scandal - because to know the fellow is to like him - and I only hope it may prove in your power to prevent one."
"I'll do anything I can, Mr. Coysh," I went so far as to say. But I was already taken by surprise. And so, I could see, was Uvo Delavoye.
"I'll hold you to that," said Coysh frankly. "When did you see him last, Mr. Gillon?"
"Do you mean Mr. Royle?" I stammered, turning away from Delavoye. If only he had not been there!
"Of course I do; and let me tell you, Mr. Gillon, this is a serious matter for the man, you know. You won't improve his chances by keeping anything back. When did you see him last?"
"Monday night," I mumbled.
But Delavoye heard.
"Monday night?" he interjected densely. "Why, it was on Monday he went away!"
"Exactly - by the last train."
"But we heard they'd gone hours before!"
"We heard wrong, so far as Royle was concerned. I came across him after I left you, and I saw him off myself."
Coysh had a sharp eye on both of us, and Delavoye's astonishment was not lost upon him. But it was at me that he looked last and longest.
"And you keep this to yourself from Monday night till now?"
"What's about it?" I demanded, falling into my own vernacular in my embarrassment.
"It only looks rather as though you were behind the scenes," replied Coysh simply. And his honesty called to mine.
"Well, so I was, to a certain extent," I cried; "but I got there by accident, I blundered in where I wasn't wanted, and yet the fellow treated me like a gentleman! That's why I never gave it away. But," I added with more guile, "there was
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