--"

Hugh Ritson did not flinch. "What if I show you how to escape the
consequences of to-night's work altogether?"

Drayton's uplifted hand fell. "I ain't objecting to that," he growled.
"How?"

"By putting another man in your place."

Drayton's eyes opened in a stare of blank amazement.

"And what about me?" he asked.

"You," said Hugh Ritson, and a scarcely perceptible sneer curled his
lip--"you shall stand in his shoes."

A repulsive smile crossed Drayton's face. He fumbled the torn lapel with
restless fingers. His eyes wandered to the door. There was a moment's
silence.

"Him?" he said, with an elevation of the eyebrows.

Hugh Ritson bent his head slightly. Drayton stood with mouth agape.

Old Mrs. Drayton was pottering around the bar preparatory to going to
bed.

"I'll be a-bidding you good-night, sir. Paul, you'll lock up after the
gentleman."

"Good-night, Mrs. Drayton."

The landlady hobbled away. But from midway up the stairs her querulous
voice came again. "The poor young thing--I declare she's a-crying her
eyes out."

"Why d'ye mean to do?" asked Drayton.

"To get him here."

"How'll ye track him? He's gone to London, ain't he? That's a big
haystack to find a needle in, ain't it?"

"London is not a haystack, Mr. Drayton. It's a honey-comb, and every
cell is labeled. On getting out of the train at St. Pancras Station they
will either hire a cab or they will not. If they hire one, then the
number will be taken at the lodge. By that number the cabman can be
found. He will know where he drove his fare. If my brother left his wife
at one place, and settled himself at another, the cabman will know that
also. If they do not hire a cab, then, as the hour is late, and one of
them is a lady, they must be somewhere in the vicinity of the station.
Thus, in that vast honey-comb, their particular cells are already marked
out for us. That's enough for the present. Who sleep in this house
beside yourselves--and the girl?"

"Nobody but a lad--a pot-boy."

"Where is he now--in bed?"

"Four hours agone."

"Where does he sleep?"

"Up in the attic."

"Don't let that lad see you. On which side of the house does the attic
lie?"

"In the gable, this end."

"Is there an attic in the other gable?"

"Yes, a bad one."

"No matter. Get a mattress and sleep there yourself, and lie close all
day to-morrow. Take food, but no liquor, mind that. I'll come for you
when all is clear. And now show me to y