“Nor yourself, Mr. Spedding,” repeated Jimmy with conviction. “Let us understand each other thoroughly. You are, as I read you, a fairly respectable citizen. I would trust you with ten or a hundred thousand pounds without experiencing the slightest anxiety. I would not trust you with two millions in solid cash, nor would I trust any man. The magnitude of the sum is calculated to overwhelm your moral sense. The sooner the red envelope is in the possession of Angel Esquire the better for us all.” Spedding stood with bent head, his fingers nervously stroking his jaw, thinking. “An agile mind this,” thought Jimmy; “if I am not careful there will be trouble here.” He watched the lawyer’s face, and noticed the lines suddenly disappear from the troubled face, and the placid smile returning. “Conciliation and partial confession,” judged Jimmy, and his diagnosis was correct. “Well, Mr. Jimmy,” said Spedding, with some show of heartiness, “since you know so much, it may be as well to tell you more. As you have so cleverly discovered, my house to a great extent is a strong-room. There are many valuable documents that I could not with any confidence leave deposited at my office. They are safer here under my eye, so to speak. The papers of the late Mr. Reale are, I confess, in this house; but--now mark me--whether the red envelope you speak of is amongst these I do not know. There is a multitude of documents in connection with the case, all of which I have had no time to go through. The hour is late, but----” He paused irresolutely. “----If you would care to inspect the mysteries of the basement”--he smiled benevolently, and was his old self--“I shall be happy to have your assistance in a cursory search.” Jimmy was alert and watchful and to the point. “Lead the way,” he said shortly, and Spedding, after a moment’s hesitation, opened the door and Jimmy followed him into the hall. Contrary to his expectations, the lawyer led him upstairs, and through a plainly furnished bedroom to a small dressing-room that opened off. There was a conventional wardrobe against the wall, and this Spedding opened. A dozen suits hung from hooks and stretchers, and the lawyer groped amongst these for a moment. Then there was a soft click, and the back of the wardrobe swung back. Spedding turned to his visitor with a quizzical smile. “Your friend Angel’s method of gaining admittance to the haunt of the ‘Borough Lot’ was not original. Come.” Jimmy stepped gingerly through into the darkness. He heard the snap of a button, and a soft glow of light revealed a tiny chamber, in which two men might comfortably stand upright. The back of the wardrobe closed, and they were alone in a little room about as large as an average cupboard. There was a steel lever on one side of the walls, and this the lawyer pulled cautiously. Jimmy felt a sinking sensation, and heard a faint, far-off buzzing of machinery. “An electric lift, I take it,” he said quietly.