He led the way to the door. Lining one side of the street and stretching from the house to the corner of Gaspard Place were ten motor lorries. “Here’s the name.” He turned the card over. “Lord Flanborough, Felton House, Grosvenor Avenue,” said the man reading it over her shoulder. “Have you any letter?” “No, miss, these are all the instructions I had. I was told to bring the chemicals to his lordship and ask for you.” “Chemicals?” she said. Her father had followed her to the door. “What is it?” he asked. “This man has brought some chemicals for you.” “Oh, nonsense, there is some mistake,” said Lord Flanborough. “I am not a chemist.” He went down the steps with the girl to the first lorry. She looked inside and apparently it was empty. “What is it you have brought?” she asked in surprise. “There they are, miss, on the floor.” And then she saw a number of packages wrapped in sacking. “They’re pretty heavy,” said the man, “considering their size.” She reached out her hand and tried to draw one toward her. It defied her efforts. Lord Flanborough tried and succeeded in moving it. Something in its shape startled him. “Have you a knife?” he asked the man. The contractor produced a big clasp knife and opened it. “Be careful, my lord,” he warned, “they’re dangerous--” But Lord Flanborough had ripped the canvas package and exposed a dull yellow ingot. He dropped the knife and stepped back. “How many wagons are there?” he asked huskily. “Ten, sir. They’ve all got the same number of packages--and are we to take them to the Docks?” Lord Flanborough made a rapid calculation. “Take them into the basement and put them into the coal cellar,” he said and went up the steps two at a time and back into his study. Sir Ralph was still waiting. The rudeness of his host neither increased nor decreased his irritation. Lord Flanborough stepped up to him briskly. “Look here, Sapson,” he said. “What responsibility do you want me to bear in the matter of this gold?” “I want you to bear half.” “I will do more than that,” said his lordship. “I will assume the whole responsibility for two hundred thousand pounds.” Ralph swung round. “You will?” he said incredulously. “I will.” “Done,” said Sir Ralph and pulled out his cheque book. He wrote quickly and nervously but quite legibly enough and handed the slip to Lord Flanborough, what time his lordship was writing with more leisure but no less excitement on the other side of the table. “There’s your cheque,” said Sir Ralph. “And there’s my note freeing you from responsibility,” said his lordship. “I am sorry I have been so unpleasant,” said the baronet wiping his steaming brow, “but you will understand.” “I quite understand,” said Lord Flanborough. “Business is business,” said Ralph. “Business is business,” repeated his lordship and folding the cheque slipped it into his pocket. CHAPTER XVI. ON THE UNMORALITY OF PROFESSIONAL THIEVES