"Won't you? Then don't! Who asked you? I'll do all the touching that's wanted; only--mind! if you shirk now you'll pay for it when the time for sharing comes." "I'm not quite the scoundrel you take it for granted that I am." "No, you're another and a worse kind, you're a white-livered cur. You do the sneak game, when you think it's safe, for pennies; but when it comes to the man's game, for something worth having, you whine. I can see that I shall have to talk to you as I haven't done yet before you really do begin to find out where you are; but I haven't time to do it now. Where's he likely to have put those keys? Anyhow we ought to be able to get at his writing-table drawers without them; I shouldn't say that there was anything very special about their locks." He took something out of his pocket which he inserted in the keyhole of the top drawer. "It only wants a little--a little management. I thought so; that's done it; drawer No. 1." He drew the top drawer open, and instantly pushed it back again. "What's that?" There was the sound of an electric bell. "It's--it's somebody ringing." "I know it's somebody ringing; I'm not deaf, am I? I don't need you to tell me that it's somebody ringing; but who's ringing? Who knows that we're here?" "Perhaps it's the porter; or somebody connected with the Mansions." The two men stood staring at each other; Nash white-faced. The bell was heard again. "You go and see who's there; if it's the porter, or any one of that sort, you bluff him off. And mind, if you make a mess of things through funk, it'll be you who'll pay." "I'm not afraid, Mr. Morgan; at least, not in the sense you mean." Herbert Nash went to the front door; Morgan remained in the room, listening. Without was a young man; behind him was the porter. "I beg your pardon," said the young man; "but the porter tells me that Mr. Oldfield's solicitor, Mr. Nash, is here; are you Mr. Nash?" "I am." "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Clifford--Frank Clifford; I am Mr. Oldfield's manager--at Marlborough Buildings; possibly he has mentioned my name to you." A voice came from within--Morgan's. "Certainly he has mentioned your name to us, Mr. Clifford; we know it very well, and all about you. Step in, you're the very man we want to see. Nash, let Mr. Clifford in." After what seemed to be a moment's hesitation Mr. Nash drew the door wider open, so as to permit of Clifford's entering. When he was in the door was shut. CHAPTER XXX WHEN THIEVES FALL OUT "Come in here, Mr. Clifford; it's a very fortunate chance your dropping in on us like this; you couldn't have arranged it better if you'd tried. I've no doubt Mr. Nash is glad to see you, and I'm quite sure I am." As Clifford followed Morgan into the sitting-room he eyed him a little askance. "To whom have I the pleasure of speaking?" "I'm Mr. Oldfield's most intimate friend; I know more about his affairs than any man living."