“What is your idea of the best of a bad job,” sneered Gregori,--“to take the handcuffs off you and put them on me and the Colonel? If it means a ‘lifer’ for the Colonel! what does it mean for me? You don’t suppose I am going back to Dartmoor to build walls for the moor farmers, do you?” “What is the alternative?” asked Michael. “I’ll tell you what is the alternative,” hissed the other thrusting his face into the detective’s, “it is the only alternative that will give me any satisfaction--and it is to put you out.” “Dot is id,” nodded Stockmar. The girl’s heart almost stopped beating and for a moment she closed her eyes and gripped tight to the edge of the table. She felt physically sick and her knees were trembling under her. Fortunately their attention was fully occupied with Michael and nobody noticed that she had grown of a sudden peaked and grey. She bit her lips and by sheer effort of will regained control of herself. She looked at Michael: that little smile of his still played about the corners of his mouth and the eyes that were lifted to Colling Jacques were full of good humor. “It is you or us, Pretherston,” the engineer was saying; “you don’t suppose we have been working for this stuff and taken all the risk, only to see ourselves standing in the dock of the Old Bailey?” “Winchester,” corrected the detective, “it is a very pretty assize court--the vaulted ceiling will appeal to you, Jacques. It is in the Gothic style.” “One moment,” said the Colonel suddenly. With a nod he called the men to a corner of the room and for five minutes there was a whispered consultation. The girl and Michael were left alone and obeying some impulse which she could not define, she suddenly turned her back upon him and walked to the window, a proceeding which Gregori noticed out of the corner of his eye. Presently the little conference broke up and the Colonel came back with the others. “Look here, Pretherston, I am going to make a proposition to you. You are not a rich man, I take it.” “My private affairs don’t concern you,” said Michael calmly, “and I certainly am not prepared to discuss them with you.” “This job is worth two and a half millions and there are ten of us in it. Help us to make a getaway and there is not far short of a quarter of a million for you.” The girl swung round and looked at Michael. How would he take this offer? She knew how great was the appeal which money made to men, especially money easily earnt. She waited in breathless, almost painful, suspense. “Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds,” said Michael--“that is a lot of money. But, why do you put such a proposition to me?” “It is a lot of money,” repeated the Colonel significantly. Michael laughed. “I suppose there was a time in your life,” he drawled, “when if somebody had offered you money to do a dishonest act, you would have knocked him down? But perhaps there never was such a time,” he said, searching the other’s face.