That was Bat’s thought too. “No,” he said; “there’s nothin’ against us. Why, Angel let us off only last week because there wasn’t evidence, an’ Connor’s straight.” “I don’t trust him, by God!” said Vinnis. “I trust nobody,” said Bat doggedly, “but Connor’s straight----” There was a rap on the door. “Who’s there?” “All right!” said the muffled voice. Bat unlocked the door, and Connor came in. What he had seen or what he had heard had brought about a marvelous change in his appearance--his cheeks were a dull red, and his eyes blazed with triumph. “Boys,” he said, and they caught the infectious thrill in his voice, “I’ve got the biggest thing for you--a million pounds, share and share alike.” He felt rather than heard the excitement his words caused. He stood with his back to the half-opened door. “I’m going to introduce a new pal,” he rattled on breathlessly. “I’ll vouch for him.” “Who is he?” asked Bat. “Do we know him?” “No,” said Connor, “and you’re not expected to know him. But he’s putting up the money, and that’s good enough for you, Bat--a hundred pounds a man, and it will be paid to-night.” Bat Sands spat on his hand. “Bring him in. He’s good enough,” and there was a murmur of approval. Connor disappeared for a moment, and returned followed by a well-dressed stranger, who met the questioning glances of his audience with a quiet smile. His eyes swept over every face. They rested for a moment on Vinnis, they looked doubtfully at old George, who, seated on a chair with crossed legs and his head bent, was talking with great rapidity in an undertone to himself. “Gentlemen,” said the stranger, “I have come with the object of gaining your help. Mr. Connor has told me that he has already informed you about Reale’s millions. Briefly, I have decided to forestall other people, and secure the money for myself. I offer you a half share of the money, to be equally divided amongst you, and as an earnest of my intention, I am paying each man who is willing to help me a hundred pounds down.” He drew from one of his pockets a thick package of notes, and from two other pockets similar bundles. He handed them to Connor, and the hungry eyes of the “Borough Lot” focused upon the crinkling paper. “What I shall ask you to do,” the stranger proceeded, “I shall tell you later----” “Wait a bit,” interrupted Bat. “Who else is in this?” “We alone,” replied the man. “Is Jimmy in it?” “No.” “Is Angel in it?” “No” (impatiently). “Go on,” said Bat, satisfied. “The money is in a safe that can only be opened by a word. That word nobody knows--so far. The clue to the word was stolen a few nights ago from the lawyer in charge of the case by--Jimmy.” He paused to note the effect of his words. “Jimmy has passed the clue on to Scotland Yard, and we cannot hope to get it.” “Well?” demanded Bat. “What we can do,” the other went on, “is to open the safe with something more powerful than a word.”