wice we brought down close
on two thousand. Once there was three thousand, almost to a sovereign.
Even men trained to the work--bullion porters, as they call them at the
Bank of England--reckon five bags of a thousand, canvas bags not much
short of a foot long and six inches across, you know--they reckon five of
them a full load--and wouldn't care to go far with them either. The
equivalent of three of them was quite enough for me to carry from Inkston
station up to the Cottage--trying to look as if I were carrying nothing
of any account! One hasn't got to pretend to be carrying nothing in full
marching kit--nor to carry it all in one hand. And he'd never trust
himself in a cab--might be kidnapped, you see! I don't know exactly, but
from what he said I reckon we've brought down, on our Wednesday trips,
about two-thirds of all he had. Now you've probably gathered what his
idea was. He knew he was disguised as Saffron--and very proud of the way
he lived up to the character. As Saffron, he realized the money by
driblets--turned his securities into notes, his notes into gold. But he'd
lost all knowledge that the money was his own--made by himself--himself
Saffron. He thought it was saved out of the wreck of his Imperial
fortune. It was to be dedicated to restoring the Imperial cause. He
himself could not attempt, at present, to get out of England, least of
all carrying pots of gold coin. But he believed that I could. I was to go
to Morocco and so on, and raise the country for him, taking as much as I
could, and coming back for more! He had no doubt at all of my coming
back! In fact it wouldn't have been much easier for me to get out of the
country with the money than it would have been for the authentic Kaiser
himself. But, Doctor Mary, what would have been possible was for me to go
somewhere else, or even back to the places we knew of, for no questions
were asked there--put that money back into notes, or securities in my own
name, and tell him I had carried out the Morocco programme. He had no
sense of time, he would have suspected nothing."

"That would have been mere and sheer robbery," said Mary.

"Oh yes, it would," Beaumaroy agreed. "And, if I'd done it, and deserted
him, I should have deserved to be hanged. That was hardly my question. As
long as he lived, I meant to stick by him; but he was turned seventy,
frail, with heart-disease, and, as I understand, quite likely to sink
into general paralysis. Well, if I was to