“Well, I’m for it,” he said.
“So am I,” said Wyatt quietly.
Abbershaw hesitated, and Prenderby too was silent, whilst Albert Campion remained mild and foolish-looking as if he were looking in on the scene from outside.
Abbershaw was thinking of Meggie. Prenderby too had his fiancée clinging to his arm. Mr. Campion appeared to be thinking of nothing at all.
“After all, it does seem to be our only chance.”
It was Prenderby who spoke, and the words stirred Abbershaw.
What the boy said was perfectly true. He turned to Kennedy.
“All right,” he said, “I’m with you.”
Kennedy looked pointedly at Albert.
“And you?” he said.
Albert shook his head. “Oh, I’m not standing out,” he said. “I don’t like these rough games, but I don’t shirk them when they’re thrust on me. What do we all do?”
Mr. Kennedy appeared to have the whole plan clear in his mind.
“It’s quite simple,” he said, leaning his chin in his unwounded hand and bending forward, an intent expression in his eyes.
“Let me shape your career for you!” quoted Mr. Campion brightly. Kennedy reddened angrily and dropped the pose, but he went on doggedly.
“My idea,” he said, “is that three go down to dinner with the girls. I’m afraid they’ll have to come or the men will smell a rat. They start food, and the other three fellows wait outside the door until one of their laddies is at work on the side table and the other serving the dishes at the big table. At that moment someone knocks a glass on to the flags. That’s the signal. Then the blokes outside the door charge in and seize the carver. One of ’em gets his arm. Another stuffs a hanky in his mouth, and the third stands by to slog him over the head if necessary. Hang it, we can’t go wrong like that. The only thing is they mustn’t suspect us. We’ve got to take them by surprise. It’s the simplest thing going as long as we don’t make a row.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Campion, standing up with sudden solemnity. “A very clever idea, but what we have to ask ourselves is: Is it quite fair! Three men on to one. Come, come, we must remember that we are British, and all that. Perhaps we could each tie a hand behind our backs—or shall I offer them single combat instead?”
Chris Kennedy rose to his feet, and walking across to Mr. Campion spoke quietly but vigorously.
Mr. Campion blushed.
“I didn’t think you’d take it like that. You will have it your own way, of course. I shan’t say anything.”
“You’d better not,” said Kennedy, and walked back to his seat. “Abbershaw, you, Michael, and Mr. Campion had better go down with the girls, and Wyatt, Martin, and I will wait for the signal of the broken glass. Who’s going to do that? It had better be a girl. Miss Oliphant, will you do it?”
Meggie nodded.
“As soon as one man is at the carving-table and the other serving us,” she said.
Kennedy smiled at her. “That’s it,” he said. “Now is that clear?” he went on, glancing around him, his eyes dancing with excitement. “Abbershaw, you get the bloke’s arms, Prenderby, you’re responsible for gagging the sportsman!—”
“Yes?” said Campion, who was apparently gibbering with excitement. “And what can I do?”
“You stand by,” said Kennedy, with something suspiciously like a sneer on his handsome young face.
“Oh, very well,” said Mr. Campion, looking considerably disappointed. “I’ll stand ready to dot the fellow with a bottle if necessary.”
“That’s the idea,” agreed Chris Kennedy somewhat grudgingly, and returned to the others. “Of course,” he said, “it’ll be a bit of a shock for the two lackey-thugs to see you all turning up bright and happy after your adventures; still, I think the idea is to walk in as if nothing had ever happened. You can indulge in a certain amount of bright conversation if you like, to put them off the scent. That’s where you’ll come in useful,” he added, turning to Campion. “Talk as much as you like. That’s the time to be funny.”
“Righto,” said Mr. Campion, brightening visibly. “I’ll show them my two-headed penny. I’ll be awfully witty. ‘They laughed when I sat down at the piano, but when I began to play they knew at once that I had taken Kennedy’s Patent Course. How they cheered me on—’ ”
“Oh, shut up,” said Martin Watt, grinning good-naturedly. “The fun starts at dinner, then. Oh, and by the way, when we’ve pinched these fellows’ guns, what do we do with the laddies? Leave them lying about?”
“I’ve thought of that,” said the indefatigable Kennedy; “we tie ’em up. I’ve been collecting portmanteau straps. That’ll do it, you’ll find. We’ll lash ’em both into chairs and leave ’em there.”
“Yes,” said Martin, “and next? When we’ve fixed up all that, what happens next?”
“Then somebody takes charge of the girls,” said Kennedy. “They lock themselves in some safe room—Miss Oliphant’s bedroom just at the head of the stairs, for instance. Then the rest of us form into two parties with a revolver each and storm the servants’ quarters, where, with a certain amount of luck, we shall get another gun or two. Then we can let out at some of these lads who amble round keeping an eye on us after dinner. We’ll tie ’em up and raid old Dawlish’s quarters.”
He paused and looked round him, smiling.
“As soon as we’ve got everyone accounted for, we get the girls and sheer out of the house in a body. How’s that?”
“Sounds lovely,” said Mr. Campion, adding after a pause, “so simple. It’ll be rather awkward if someone makes a noise, though, won’t it? I mean you might have the entire gang down on you at the one-gun-per-three-men stage.”
Kennedy snapped at him. He was thoroughly tired of Mr. Campion’s helpful suggestions.
“There just hasn’t got to be any noise,” he said, “that’s the point. And by the way, I think you’re the man to stay with the
