"Now," went on Hugh, as they heard the sound of the departing lorry, "we've got to set the scene for to-morrow morning." He glanced at his watch. "Just eleven. How long will it take me to get the old buzz-box to Laidley Towers?"
"Laidley Towers," echoed Darrell. "What the devil are you going there for?"
"I just can't bear to be parted from Henry for one moment longer than necessary," said Hugh quietly. "And Henry is there, in a praiseworthy endeavour to lift the Duchess's pearls. … Dear Henry!" His two fists clenched, and the American looking at his face, laughed softly.
But it was only for a moment that Drummond indulged in the pleasures of anticipation; all that could come after. And just now there were other things to be done—many others, if events next morning were to go as they should.
"Take those two into the centre room," he cried. "Incidentally there's a dead Boche on the floor, but he'll come in very handy in my little scheme."
"A dead Boche!" The intimidated rabbit gave a frightened squeak. "Good heavens! You ruffian, this is beyond a joke."
Hugh looked at him coldly.
"You'll find it beyond a joke, you miserable little rat," he said quietly, "if you speak to me like that." He laughed as the other shrank past him. "Three of you boys in there," he ordered briskly, "and if either of them gives the slightest trouble clip him over the head. Now let's have the rest of the crowd in here, Peter."
