“We have him in a cleft stick,” continued Long John. “Seeing himself at our mercy he will turn round and defy us. Has he not done so already? To-night, in your presence, mates, he named impossible conditions; when they were not acceded to, he went away with threatening words on his lips. He has done us harm, and, I repeat again, he must go. A diamond, well known to the police, has been found in his establishment. His wife has worn it. It is, doubtless, even now written in their records as part of the stolen goods from Rowton Heights. I repeat once again, the man must go. Do not let us discuss the fact of his going. A word or two as to the means and this meeting may break up.” Just then there came a timid knock at the door. Scrivener went on tiptoe to open it. The servant girl who brought it stood without. She handed a little twisted note. Scrivener took it to Long John. He opened it, read the contents, and thrust it into his pocket. “I have grave information here,” he said. “Spider is in town, and has been acting the spy for us as usual. We have no time to lose, mates. The police have already got wind of Silver’s identity. Spider has informed me in this note that they identify him with Adrian Rowton, master of Rowton Heights. Before twenty-four hours are over he will be arrested. Now, look here, we arrest him first. You understand, don’t you?” “Yes,” answered several voices. They were all eager now. Their apathy had vanished. “We have a wine party here to-morrow night,” said Long John, rising as he spoke. “Scrivener, it will be your duty to bring Silver here as guest. Use fair means to get him to come, if necessary; if not, lie to him. Good-night, men. We meet to-morrow evening at nine.” CHAPTER XXXIV. A TOAST. Absorbed in his own disturbed thoughts, Rowton never knew that he was followed. Simpkins saw him enter the little hotel off the Strand which has been mentioned in an earlier part of this story. At an early hour on the following morning, as Rowton was having breakfast in the coffee room, Scrivener was announced. The landlord brought in the information. “There’s a man of the name of Dawson outside,” he said to Rowton, “he’ll be glad to speak to you for a minute.” “Show him in,” said Rowton, nodding. The next moment Scrivener stood before him. “Ah, Dawson,” said Rowton, taking his cue immediately, “what may your business be?” “Nothing much,” replied Scrivener. “I have come here with a message from the club.” “Well, sit down and have a cup of coffee. I’ll walk out with you presently.” Scrivener, otherwise Dawson, complied. The two men drank coffee together. Then Rowton rose from his seat. “We can take a turn on the Embankment,” he said.