The girl sat up quickly and stared at him.
"Got him? Oh, Hugh! How did they manage it?"
"I'm damned if I know," he answered grimly. "They found out that he was in my bungalow at Goring during the afternoon by sending round a man to see about the water. Somehow or other he must have doped the drink or the food, because after dinner we all fell asleep. I can just remember seeing Lakington's face outside in the garden, pressed against the window, and then everything went out. I don't remember anything more till I woke this morning with the most appalling head. Of course, Potts had gone."
"I heard the car drive up in the middle of the night," said the girl thoughtfully. "Do you think he's at The Elms now?"
"That is what I propose to find out to-night," answered Hugh. "We have staged a little comedy for Peterson's especial benefit, and we are hoping for the best."
"Oh, boy, do be careful!" She looked at him anxiously. "I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you. I'd feel it was all due to me, and I just couldn't bear it."
"Dear little girl," he whispered tenderly, "you're simply adorable when you look like that. But not even for you would I back out of this show now." His mouth set in a grim line. "It's gone altogether too far, and they've shown themselves to be so completely beyond the pale that it's got to be fought out. And when it has been," he caught both her hands in his…"and we've won…why, then girl o' mine, we'll get Peter Darrell to be best man."
