"No. I must be told exactly what you intend doing when I have kidnapped Stranleigh. What trick will you play in London?"
"Don't talk like a fool, Hazel. You're not kidnapping Stranleigh. You're inviting him to take a voyage on the yacht that has been lent you. He accepts of his own free will; or he refuses, as the case may be. It's a perfectly legitimate and friendly transaction."
"Friendly? Yes, confoundedly friendly. I'm under no delusions on that score, but I wish to know the extent of your intentions towards him. What token of friendship are you going to bestow upon Lord Stranleigh when he's sailing the Bay of Biscay with me?"
"Have you got Lord Stranleigh's letters to you in your pocket?" asked the other abruptly.
"Yes."
"Hand them over to me. I want to read them, and while I am doing so you make up your mind whether you wish to know my affairs as well as your own. You're taking no risk. I'm the man that runs into danger; and, if you accept my advice, you'd better not know what's to be done; then you can say with that clear conscience of yours, if anything goes wrong afterwards, that you were kept in the dark."
Hazel handed to him a packet of letters. Isaacstein slipped off the rubber band, and one by one perused them carefully. Hazel sipped his cham-
