It was not the safety of his own skin that troubled him, but the success of the scheme he had planned. That little man was clean grit all through, without a soft spot in him. One night he was very solemn.

“Say, Hannay,” he said, “I judge I should let you a bit deeper into this business. I should hate to go out without leaving somebody else to put up a fight.” And he began to tell me in detail what I had only heard from him vaguely.