“Well, Major,” said Jack, pouring out a cognac, “I’ll take, first, five hundred pounds cash for the information. Another five hundred for the job, with a quarter of what we get. And this second sum you can put up with Etienne Garcin. You can pay him now the two hundred for the men and the boat, out of that, and give me the rest of the odd change later. We’ll never lose sight of each other after we start. For the Hirondelle will not leave me in the lurch. I’ve sworn never to wear the widow’s jewelry again.” Jack Blunt’s eyes were devilish in their glare. “So, it’s five hundred pounds down now, and I can order the expedition on, after the payment. You’ll give me on the instant all the news from Mattie Jones of the intended return, for I propose to have some fun with the Professor.” “Honor bright,” said Jack forcibly. “For we will all hang or ‘go to quod’ together, if there’s a break once that we begin. We had better start when I get her next letter, for Mattie is to write me to the Jersey Arms and then telegraph there, too, from Southampton. I’ll have one of the crew pipe them off from the pier home to the Tolly, and a half dozen of the boys will be in hiding, ready for work. So you can work your scheme as you will.” “It’s a go, then. Come on, now, and get your money,” said Hawke, as he led the way to the nearest fiacre. In ten minutes, Alan Hawke disappeared into the railway waiting-room, and returned after a visit to the luggage store-room. Jack Blunt was astonished at his pal’s evident distrust. “Here you are, Jack,” the Major cordially cried, as they sought the rear room of the neat cafe opposite the gare. “Now, count over your five hundred pounds. I’ll give Garcin the other sum in your presence. Then, I suppose that I am safe,” he coldly smiled. “Tell me now where has old Fraser hidden the stuff.”