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Cobby rushed his fingers through his leonine bush of hair, shook his head rather irritably. "Leave me out of it, Rolls. I—can't. Beside this surface-tension of bubbles, I am counting the droplets in vapour-clouds with Stokes; and, then, the Government—No, no, leave me out."

"Still, you are coming slowly round, I can see," Rolls remarked with a twinkle.

"I am—not, Rolls," said Cobby.

"You don't want me to be assassinated in a London street—that's why."

"No, that's true, I don't, I don't."

"Therefore, you'll come. What's the good of bubbles? This is solid cash, this proposition—not bubbles. With a million of Spiciewegiehotiu's money in your bank, you could blow bubbles as big as this building. And, then, justice, Cobby. Your cousin. Isn't it a duty?"

Bent over his work-table, after a while Cobby replied: "I don't see that it is a duty to kidnap anyone. The girl is free, and if she doesn't want—— Moreover, my head is of some value, apparently; I am not anxious to have it hacked off by the little brisk man who glances up and asks 'how's that?'"