“To London!” said Davies. We were passing under an arc lamp, and, for the dismay his face showed, I might have said Kamchatka.
“Well, after all, it’s where I ought to be at this moment,” I observed.
“You can’t get on without me, so you lay up the yacht here—taking your time.”
“After making inquiries about Dollmann’s past I double back as somebody else, and follow up the clues.”
“You’ll have to be quick,” said Davies, abstractedly.
“When you say ‘making inquiries’,” he continued, looking straight before him, “I hope you don’t mean setting other people on his track?”
“He’s fair game!” I could not help saying; for there were moments when I chafed under this scrupulous fidelity to our self-denying ordinance.
“He’s our game, or nobody’s,” said Davies, sharply.
“Let’s stick together,” he broke out. “I shall make a muck of it without you. And how are we to communicate—meet?”
“Somehow—that can wait. I know it’s a leap in the dark, but there’s safety in darkness.”
“Carruthers! what are we talking about? If they have the ghost of a notion where we have been to-day, you give us away by packing off to London. They’ll think we know their secret and are clearing out to make use of it. _That_ means arrest, if you like!”
“Pessimist! Haven’t I written proof of good faith in my pocket—official letters of recall, received to-day? It’s one deception the less, you see; for those letters _may_ have been opened; skilfully done it’s impossible to detect. When in doubt, tell the truth!”
“It’s a rum thing how often it pays in this spying business,” said Davies thoughtfully.
We had been tramping through deserted streets under the glare of electricity, I with my leaden shuffle, he with the purposeful forward stoop and swinging arms that always marked his gait ashore.
“Well, what’s it to be?” I said. “Here’s the Schwannallée.”
“I don’t like it,” said he; “but I trust your judgement.”
We turned slowly down, running over a few last points where prior agreement was essential. As we stood at the very gate of the villa: “Don’t commit yourself to dates,” I said; “say nothing that will prevent you from being here at least a week hence with the yacht still afloat.” And my final word, as we waited at the door for the bell to be answered, was: “Don’t mind what _I_ say. If things look queer we may have to lighten the ship.”