"I've never heard of anything so brazen. 'Gad, what nerve these
Americans have. Just to think of it!"
"I don't believe she is anything of the sort," declared his wife. "She's
as good as gold. You can't fool me, Carney. I know women."
"Deuce take it, Agatha, so do I. And wot's more, I know men."
"They're a poor lot, the kind you know. This pseudo Medcroft is not your
kind. He's a very clever chap and a gentleman."
"Now, look here, Agatha, don't imagine that I'm going to be such a cad
as to turn against 'em in their hour of trial. Not I. I'm more their
friend than ever. I'll help 'em to get away from here, and I'll bulldose
these Rodneys into holding their peace forever after. It's the Rodney
duplicity that I can't stand."
"Shall we stay here or shall we find an excuse to leave?" she asked
pointedly.
"We'll stay long enough for me to tell the Rodneys wot I think of 'em,
I'll have an answer to my despatch by night. Then, I should advise you
to have a talk with Mrs. Medcroft. You've invited her to the house, you
know. Tell her there can't be two Medcrofts. See wot I mean? We'll see
'em through this, but--well, you understand."
Meantime a telegram had preceded a lengthy letter into the department of
the police, both directed to Herr Bauer, who in reality was James
Githens, of Scotland Yard. The telegram had said: "Why do you say M. is
there? He is in London.
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