The hall door was opened and closed behind the
sound of retreating footsteps.
"Sir Henry," Lessingham reminded him, "I have not asked for your
intervention."
"My dear fellow, you wouldn't," was the prompt reply. "As for the
little trouble that has happened in the North Sea, don't take it
too much to heart, it was entirely the fault of the people who sent
you here."
"The fault of the people who sent me here," Lessingham repeated.
"I scarcely understand."
"It's simple enough," Sir Henry continued. "You see, you are about
as fit to be a spy as Philippa, my wife here, is to be a detective.
You possess the one insuperable obstacle of having the instincts
of a gentleman.--Come, come," he went on, "we have nothing more to
say to one another. Open that window and take the narrow path down
to the beach. Jimmy Dumble is waiting for you at the gate. He will
row you out to a Dutch trawler which is lying even now off the point."
"You mean me to get away?" Lessingham exclaimed, bewildered.
"Believe me, it will cost nothing," Sir Henry assured him. "I was
not bluffing when I told Captain Griffiths that I had supreme
authority here. He knows perfectly well that I am within my rights
in aiding your escape."
Philippa moved swiftly to where Lessingham was standing. She gave
him her hands.
"Dear friend," she begged, "so wonderful a friend as you have been,
don't refuse this last thing.
Pages:
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269