"You must have learned by this time who is who, and where they keep their jewels and pocket-books. If I am able to get about, I will run over to see you on Saturday next. Two or three of our friends will accompany me. "Yours in haste, "EGREMONT." The day appointed saw three men alight from the early morning train. They had occupied different cars, and swung off onto the platform from different places. But the old policeman, who had done duty at the station of the famous watering-place for nearly two decades, noted them at once with his keen, experienced eye. "A trio of crooks," he muttered, looking after them. "I can tell it from their shifting glances and hitching gait, as though they never could break from the habit of the lock-step; I will keep my eye on them." Although the three men went to different hotels, they had been scarcely an hour in Newport before they all assembled in the room of the man who had written to Lamont, signing himself Egremont. "It is deuced strange Victor doesn't come," he said, impatiently. "He must have received both my letter and telegram." At that moment there was a step outside, the door opened, and Victor Lamont, the subject of their conversation, strode into the apartment. "It was a mighty risky step, pals, for you to come to Newport, and, above all, to expect me to keep this appointment with you to-day!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "Didn't you know that?" And with that he pulled the door to after him with a bang. It was nearly two hours ere Victor Lamont, with his hat pulled down over his eyes, quitted the hostelry and his companions, and then he went by a side entrance, first glancing quickly up and down the street to note if there was any one about who would be apt to recognize him. The coast being apparently clear, he stepped out into the street, walked rapidly away, and turned the nearest corner. "If it could be done!" he muttered, under his breath. "The chance is a desperate one, but, as Egremont says, we must raise money _somehow_. Well, it's a pretty daring scheme; but I am in for it, if the pretty little beauty can be induced to stroll on the beach to-night." Night had come, and to Victor Lamont's great delight, he received a pretty, cream-tinted, sweet-scented, monogrammed note from Sally Gardiner, saying that she would be pleased to accept his escort that evening, and would meet him in the reception-room an hour later. Lamont's eyes sparkled with joy as he saw her, for she was resplendent in a dream of white lace, and wore all her magnificent diamonds. He was obliged to promenade and dance with her for an hour or so, although he knew his companions would be waiting with the utmost impatience on the shore. When he proposed the stroll, he looked at her keenly, his lips apart, intense eagerness in his voice. To his great relief, she acquiesced at once.