ion of offering any. All I wanted was to be taken to
Hurley Junction; to get back to town and forget the Jervaises' existence.

Banks's change of expression when I laughed began to enlighten my fuddled
understanding. I realised that I had no longer to deal with a suspicious,
wooden-headed lawyer, but with a frank, kindly human being.

"I don't see the joke," he said, but his look of cold anger was fading
rapidly.

"The joke," I said, "is a particularly funny one. I have quarrelled with
the entire Jervaise family and their house-party. I have been openly
accused by Frank Jervaise of having come to Thorp-Jervaise solely to aid
you in your elopement; and my duplicity being discovered I hastened to run
away, leaving all my baggage behind, in the fear of being stood up against
a wall and shot at sight. I set out, I may add, to walk fourteen miles to
Hurley Junction, but on the way I discovered this car, from which you seem
to have extracted some vital organ. So I settled myself down to wait until
you should return with its heart, or lungs, or whatever it is you removed.
And now, my dear chap, I beseech you to put the confounded thing right
again and drive me to Hurley. I've suffered much on your account. It's
really the least you can do by way of return."

He stared at me in amazement.

"But, honestly, no kid..." he remarked.

I saw that, naturally enough, he could not make head or tail of my story.

"Oh! it's all perfectly true, in effect," I said. "I can't go into
details. As a matter of fact, all the Jervaises' suspicions came about as
a result of our accidental meeting on the hill last night. I said nothing
about it to them, you understand; and then they found out that I hadn't
slept in the house, and Miss Tattersall discovered by accident that I knew
you by sight--that was when you came up to the house this morning--and
after that everything I've ever done since infancy has somehow gone to
prove that my single ambition in life has always been to help you in
abducting Brenda Jervaise. Also, I wanted to fight Frank Jervaise an hour
or two ago in the avenue. So, my dear Banks, have pity on me and help me
to get back to London."

Banks grinned. "No getting back to London to-night," he said. "Last train
went at 3.19."

"Well, isn't there some hotel in the neighbourhood?" I asked.

He hesitated, imaginatively searching the county for some hotel worthy of
receiving me.

"There's nothing decent nearer than Godbury,"