“After all you have told me.”
“With the chance of being poisoned, the first time you happened to offend her?”
“With the chance of being poisoned,” answered Mr. Bashwood, “in four-and-twenty hours.”
The Spy of the Private Inquiry Office dropped back into his chair, cowed by his father’s words and his father’s looks.
“Mad!” he said to himself. “Stark mad, by jingo!”
Mr. Bashwood looked at his watch, and hurriedly took his hat from a side-table.
“I should like to hear the rest of it,” he said. “I should like to hear every word you have to tell me about her, to the very last. But the time, the dreadful, galloping time, is getting on. For all I know, they may be on their way to be married at this very moment.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Bashwood the younger, getting between his fa
