He assumed the air of one who had just administered a well-merited rebuke; but his dignity was slightly diminished by the necessity of putting his glasses straight. Arthur seemed to take his uncle’s protest as a taunt.
“Think I’m in a funk, too? I’ll go and get your case if you like.”
Ernest appeared to be horrified at the suggestion.
“I couldn’t think of it!” he exclaimed, almost with animation. “Why, anything might happen out in the dark there. You’re not to go, Arthur. I forbid it.”
Arthur’s lips shut tight for a moment as he looked at his uncle.
“It doesn’t matter a damn to me whether you forbid it or not. I’ve offered to go; and I’m not going to draw back now and let people think I was only bragging. Besides, how do you know anyone’s after me? They’re after you all right; they’ve attacked you already. But that’s no reason why they should worry about me, is it? I guess you’re the one they’ve marked down, uncle.”
“Oh, indeed, do you think so?” said Ernest, uncomfortably. “I don’t think that’s a very nice thing to say, Arthur. It’s one of these things that may have too much truth in them to be altogether a joke, you know. I wish you wouldn’t say them. I don’t like them, I really don’t. And I don’t want you to go out of the house tonight. Suppose anything were to happen to you!”
He paused for a moment, then added as a final argument:
“We’ve got trouble enough on our hands just now.”
Sir Clinton was watching Arthur keenly; and the boy turned round in time to catch the expression on the Chief Constable’s face.
“You think I was just bragging? All right, you’ll see. I’ll take one of the cars down to the Maze and I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
He turned on his heel and walked out of the room. To Wendover’s surprise, Sir Clinton made no attempt to detain him. Ernest’s face showed marked annoyance. Evidently he could not help seeing that his super-caution had been brought into the limelight once again.
“I think that’s a silly trick,” he complained. “What’s the good of running unnecessary risks? I can get along without my cigar-case till tomorrow. And here he goes off, posing to himself as a young hero—while really, you know, he’s only a foolhardy young ass. But he was always like that. I wish Sylvia had been here; she could manage him. I never seemed to have any influence with him, somehow.”
Ardsley, obviously bored, rose and left the room. Sir Clinton took the opportunity of changing the subject.
“While your nephew’s away, Mr. Shandon, I think I’d better take the opportunity of giving you some information. You remember telling me something about a cheque and a missing counterfoil?”
“Yes,” Ernest admitted, apparently not averse to the fresh subject. “I thought I ought to tell you about that! It may not have been important; but I thought you ought to have all the information about everything, even if it didn’t seem to be anything very vital, you understand? One never knows how one thing may hinge on to another, if you see what I mean? And it certainly seemed a strange thing to me—very rum.”
“I’ve looked into the matter,” Sir Clinton went on, “and I think I’ve succeeded in doing what’s probably the most important thing from your point of view. I’ve recovered a few thousand pounds, which somebody might have got away with. You’ll find it in your safe tonight. It will be in notes. You’d better take the numbers of them. I haven’t had time to do that; and it might be as well to know them.”
Ernest’s eyes lighted up when he heard the result of Sir Clinton’s work; but the brief illumination died and was followed by a depressed expression.
“Does this mean there’ll be a prosecution; and I’ll have to give evidence? That’ll be a troublesome business.”
Sir Clinton reassured him with a gesture.
“Well, perhaps we’d better not start crossing bridges till we come to them. Let’s leave the matter for the present. It’s not for me to advise you whether to force on a case or not. I’ll even refrain from mentioning the name of the man who took the money.”
“Oh, I’ve a pretty good notion of that,” Ernest protested, with a certain air of low cunning which sat ill on his dull features. “I may not be very clever, you know; but I can put two and two together all right.”
“Then we’ll leave it at that,” said Sir Clinton, and his tone closed the discussion on that point.
For a time they sat in silence. Wendover could not quite understand Sir Clinton’s manoeuvres. Quite obviously he had given Arthur the last spur which had driven him into this expedition to the Maze; and Wendover was inclined to agree with Ernest that it was a foolhardy business. He waited with some anxiety for the boy’s return.
All at once they heard the sound of hasty footsteps in the hall, and the door was flung open, and Arthur hurried into the room. Wendover noticed that, though excited, he was in no panic.
“You were right enough, uncle!” he exclaimed, still standing with the handle of the door in his hand. “The beggar had a shot at me just at the entrance to the Maze.”
Ernest nodded his head with an attempt at sapience.
“I told you so,” he said. “I told you so! But of course you wouldn’t believe
