an inspector on night duty—he'll know my name when he reads my note, because I'm a county magistrate. If he asks you a question or two, answer. And, if you like, go with him if he goes himself, or with whoever he sends. Is it all clear?—midnight?"
"It's all clear," I replied, putting the sealed envelope in my pocket. "And I'll carry it out. But I hope you're not running into personal danger, Mr. Parslewe!"
His lips tightened, and he looked away, as if to intimate that that was a matter he wouldn't discuss, and presently he began to talk about something of a totally different nature. I wanted to ask him what I should do supposing anything did happen to him, but I dared not; I saw well enough that he had done with things for the time being, and that there was nothing to be done but to carry out his instructions.
We dined quietly downstairs at half-past six; when, nearly an hour later, Madrasia and I drove off to the theatre, we left Parslewe calmly chatting to an old gentleman in the lounge. He waved his cigar to us as we passed, then called Madrasia back.
