Cautiously the man outside stepped through the entry into the light and faced the old man, who, arrayed in a wadded dressing-gown, sat in a big chair by the fire--an old man, with white face and a sneering grin, who sat with his lap full of papers. The visitor nodded a friendly greeting. “As far as I can gather,” he said deliberately, “we are just above your dressing-room, and if you dropped me through one of your patent traps, Reale, I should fetch up amongst your priceless china.” Save for a momentary look of alarm on the old man’s face at the mention of the china, he preserved an imperturbable calm, never moving his eyes from his visitor’s face. Then his grin returned, and he motioned the other to a chair on the other side of the fireplace. Jimmy turned the cushion over with the point of his stick and sat down. “Suspicious?”--the grin broadened--“suspicious of your old friend, Jimmy? The old governor, eh?” Jimmy made no reply for a moment, then-- “You’re a wonder, governor, upon my word you are a wonder. That man in armor--your idea?” The old man shook his head regretfully. “Not mine entirely, Jimmy. Ye see, there’s electricity in it, and I don’t know much about electricity. I never did, except----” “Except?” suggested the visitor. “Oh, that roulette board, that was my own idea; but that was magnetism, which is different to electricity, by my way of looking.” Jimmy nodded. “Ye got past the trap?” The old man had just a glint of admiration in his eye. “Yes, jumped it.” The old man nodded approvingly. “You always was a one for thinkin’ things out. I’ve known lots of ’em who would never have thought of jumping it. Connor, and that pig Massey, they’d have walked right on to it. You didn’t damage anything?” he demanded suddenly and fiercely. “I heard somethin’ break, an’ I was hoping that it was you.” Jimmy thought of the marble statue, and remembered that it had looked valuable. “Nothing at all,” he lied easily, and the old man’s tense look relaxed. The pair sat on opposite sides of the fireplace, neither speaking for fully ten minutes; then Jimmy leant forward. “Reale,” he said quietly, “how much are you worth?” In no manner disturbed by this leading question, but rather indicating a lively satisfaction, the other replied instantly-- “Two millions an’ a bit over, Jimmy. I’ve got the figures in my head. Reckonin’ furniture and the things in this house at their proper value, two millions, and forty-seven thousand and forty-three pounds--floatin’, Jimmy, absolute cash, the same as you might put your hand in your pocket an’ spend--a million an’ three-quarters exact.” He leant back in his chair with a triumphant grin and watched his visitor. Jimmy had taken a cigarette from his pocket and was lighting it, looking at the slowly burning match reflectively. “A million and three-quarters,” he repeated calmly, “is a lot of money.” Old Reale chuckled softly.