"That is for Mr. Loeb to find out," said Barnes shrewdly.
"Barnes, I let you off last night, and I let her off as well. In return, I ask you to hold your tongue until the man down there gets a fair start. "O'Dowd was serious, even imploring.
"What would she say to that, O'Dowd? I have to consider her interests, you know."
"She'd give him a chance for his white alley, I'm sure, in spite of the way he treated her. There is a great deal at stake, Barnes. A day's start and--"
"Are you in danger too, O'Dowd?"
"To be sure,--but I love it. I can always squirm out of tight places. You see, I am putting myself in your hands, old man."
"I would not deliberately put you in jeopardy, O'Dowd."
"See here, I am going back to that house up yonder. There is still work for me there. What I'm after now is to get him on the train at Hornville. I'll be here again at four o'clock, on me word of honour. Trust me, Barnes. When I explain to her, she'll agree that I'm doing the right thing. Bedad, the whole bally game is busted. Another week and we'd have--but, there ye are! It's all up in the air, thanks to you and your will-o'-the-wisp rascals. You played the deuce with everything."
"Do you mean to say that you are coming back here to run the risk of being--"
"We've had word that the government has men on the way. They'll be here to-night or to-morrow, working in cahoots with the fellows across the border. Why, damn it all, Barnes, don't you know who it was that engineered that whole business last night?" He blurted it out angrily, casting off all reserve.
Barnes smiled. "I do. He is a secret agent from the embassy--"
"Secret granny!" almost shouted O'Dowd. "He is the slickest, cleverest crook that ever drew the breath of life. And he's got away with the jewels, for which you can whistle in vain, I'm thinking."
"For Heaven's sake, O'Dowd--" began Barnes, his blood like ice in his veins.
"But don't take my word for it. Ask her,--upstairs there, God bless her!--ask her if she knows Chester Naismith. She'll tell ye, my bucko. He's been standing guard outside her window for the past three nights. He's--"
"Now, I know you are mistaken," cried Barnes, a wave of relief surging over him. "He has been in this Tavern every night--"
"Sure he has. But he never was here after eleven o'clock, was he? Answer me, did ye ever see him here after eleven in the evening? You did not,--not until last night, anyhow. In the struggle he had with Nicholas last night his whiskers came off and he was recognised. That's why poor old Nicholas is lying dead up there at the house now, --and will have a decent burial unbeknownst to anybody but his friends."