It seemed to me we might be able to cross
over the water in the night, set our airship adrift, and turn up as
pedestrian tourists in Normandy or Brittany, and so get away. That, at
any rate, was my ruling idea.
I sent off Cothope with a dummy note to Woking, because I did not want
to implicate him, and took my uncle to the pavilion. I went down to my
aunt, and made a clean breast of the situation. She became admirably
competent. We went into his dressing-room and ruthlessly broke his
locks. I got a pair of brown boots, a tweed suit and a cap of his,
and indeed a plausible walking outfit, and a little game bag for his
pedestrian gear; and, in addition, a big motoring overcoat and a supply
of rugs to add to those I had at the pavilion. I also got a flask
of brandy, and she made sandwiches. I don't remember any servants
appearing, and I forget where she got those sandwiches. Meanwhile we
talked. Afterwards I thought with what a sure confidence we talked to
each other.
"What's he done?" she said.
"D'you mind knowing?"
"No conscience left, thank God!"
"I think--forgery!"
There was just a little pause.
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