“What am I to do?” asked Marvel, sotto voce.

“It’s all about. It will be in the papers! Everybody will be looking for me; everyone on their guard⁠—” The voice broke off into vivid curses and ceased.

The despair of Mr. Marvel’s face deepened, and his pace slackened.

“Go on!” said the voice.

Mr. Marvel’s face assumed a greyish tint between the ruddier patches.

“Don’t drop those books, stupid,” said the voice, sharply⁠—overtaking him.

“The fact is,” said the voice, “I shall have to make use of you.⁠ ⁠… You’re a poor tool, but I must.”