Go quickly and call him. “I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. His business has thriven; legacies have unexpectedly dropped into his lap; and, to crown all, he has made a large fortune by a lucky speculation in South-Sea stock,—made it, too, where so many others have lost fortunes, your humble servant amongst the number—ha! ha! In a word, Sir, Mr. . " "Be handy, then," rejoined Terence, "or, I'll lose my share of the smart money. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. I’ll give you an uncrossed check, and then you can get it at the bank here, quite close by. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. "And you would surrender yourself —eh?" "I'll surrender myself at once, if you'll engage to bring him off; and you'll get the reward from old Wood.
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