“You’re as unsociable as usual, Scrivener,” exclaimed another man. He uttered a whole jargon of mysterious epithets, and then continued abruptly: “Well, out with the cat. Why did you come up to night? I don’t believe Long John expected you.” “Don’t you? I should not have come if he didn’t. I had a wire from him at ten o’clock this morning. Don’t you know that Silver has come back?” “Ah,” muttered one or two voices deeply and under the breath. This exclamation had scarcely sounded through the room before the door was opened and Long John, accompanied by Rowton, entered. Long John’s eyes looked kind and pathetic; his lips intensely firm, a smile now and then parting them and showing the white teeth. That smile, innocent as it appeared, was the dread of every man in the room. As Rowton now walked by his side up to the top of the room, he felt that the chief was smiling, and augured ill from the circumstance. “Welcome back, Silver,” said one or two voices as he passed them. Simpkins in particular, a cadaverous-looking man for all his apparent prosperity, clutched hold of Rowton’s coat to attract attention. “It’s all right, old man,” said Rowton, nodding to him. The man’s face instantly relaxed into a happier expression. “Sit down near me, Rowton, and tell us all that you have done during your absence,” said Long John. “We did not expect you for at least another fortnight. Have you concluded the business?” “Yes and no,” replied Rowton. “That is very ambiguous—explain yourself.” “I have concluded the greater part of it, but not all, Piper,” replied Rowton. “And why not all, my good fellow? You went away for a definite purpose. It was understood, was it not, that you were on no account to show your face in England again until that purpose was completed in its entirety?” “I managed the diamonds and have brought them back with me,” answered Rowton. “Aye, aye, that’s right—that’s the main thing,” muttered several voices at the other end of the room. “Silence there,” said Long John. He did not speak loudly, but his eyes flashed fire. “Give us full particulars,” he said, flinging himself back in his chair, and swinging round in such a way that his eyes could comfortably fix themselves on Rowton’s face. Rowton looked haggard; there were a few streaks of white in his black hair; he was unshaven, and had a somewhat unkempt appearance. He told his story briefly, speaking with a certain terseness which compelled every man in the room to listen to him, not only with interest, but respect. “I have brought a specimen of the diamonds with me,” he said after a pause. He drew forth a small bag as he spoke—he had been holding it all this time between his knees—opened the bag with a peculiarly-shaped key, and taking out a harmless-looking brown paper parcel, laid it on Piper’s knee.