Jimmy drew out a cardboard structure that was apparently a toy working-model. He handled it carefully, and deposited it on the table by the old man’s side. Old Reale touched it caressingly. With his little finger he set a fly-wheel spinning, and tiny little pasteboard rods ran to and fro, and little wooden wheels spun easily. “That’s what I did with _his_ money, invented a noo machine that went by itself--perpetual motion. You can grin, Massey, but that’s what I did with it. Five years’ work an’ a quarter of a million, that’s what that little model means. I never found the secret out. I could always make a machine that would go for hours with a little push, but it always wanted the push. I’ve been a chap that went in for inventions and puzzles. D’ye remember the table at Suez?” He shot a sly glance at the men. Massey was growing impatient as the reminiscences proceeded. He had come that night with an object; he had taken a big risk, and had not lost sight of the fact. Now he broke in-- “Damn your puzzles, Reale. What about me; never mind about Jimmy. What’s all this rotten talk about two millions for each of us, and this girl? When you broke up the place in Egypt you said we should stand in when the time came. Well, the time’s come!” “Nearly, nearly,” said Reale, with his death’s-head grin. “It’s nearly come. You needn’t have troubled to see me. My lawyer’s got your addresses. I’m nearly through,” he went on cheerfully; “dead I’ll be in six months, as sure as--as death. Then you fellers will get the money”--he spoke slowly to give effect to his words--“you Jimmy, _or_ Massey or Connor _or_ the young lady. You say you don’t like puzzles, Massey? Well, it’s a bad look out for you. Jimmy’s the clever un, an’ most likely he’ll get it; Connor’s artful, and he might get it from Jimmy; but the young lady’s got the best chance, because women are good at puzzles.” “What in hell!” roared Massey, springing to his feet. “Sit down!” It was Jimmy that spoke, and Massey obeyed. “There’s a puzzle about these two millions,” Reale went on, and his croaky voice, with its harsh cockney accent, grew raucous in his enjoyment of Massey’s perplexity and Jimmy’s knit brows. “An’ the one that finds the puzzle out, gets the money.” Had he been less engrossed in his own amusement he would have seen a change in Massey’s brute face that would have warned him. “It’s in my will,” he went on. “I’m goin’ to set the sharps against the flats; the touts of the gamblin’ hell--that’s you two fellers--against the pigeons. Two of the biggest pigeons is dead, an’ one’s dying. Well, he’s got a daughter; let’s see what _she_ can do. When I’m dead----” “That’s now!” bellowed Massey, and leant over and struck the old man. Jimmy, on his feet, saw the gush of blood and the knife in Massey’s hand, and reached for his pocket. Massey’s pistol covered him, and the man’s face was a dreadful thing to look upon. “Hands up! It’s God’s truth I’ll kill you if you don’t!”