‘What do you think it is worth to you, sir?’ Oakley looked peculiarly at his master, who paused. ‘Well, Oakley,’ he said at length, ‘since you put it in that way, it is worth, we’ll say, a hundred pounds to me. I’ll draw you a cheque. It will pay the expenses of your summer holiday.’ ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Oakley impassively. ‘May I just glance at the document again, sir? There was one point----’ Simon Lock handed him the dead man’s message. Oakley took it, folded it carefully, and placed it in his pocket. ‘What the devil are you doing?’ Simon Lock demanded angrily. ‘I was venturing to think, sir, that, after all, the document belonged to me by right of discovery. And since I have the misfortune to differ from you as to its monetary value----’ Simon Lock jumped up, and then he looked rather cautiously at Mr. Oakley’s somewhat muscular frame. ‘Look here----’ Simon Lock began imperatively. ‘In my hip-pocket I have a revolver, Mr. Lock,’ said Mr. Oakley. ‘Force, therefore, would be a mistake.’ ‘I see,’ said Simon Lock. ‘Well, what do you think the thing worth?’ ‘Ten thousand pounds,’ said Mr. Oakley imperturbably. ‘I will hand it over to you in exchange for a promissory note for that amount payable at three months.’ There was a long pause. Simon Lock had the precious gift of knowing when he was beaten. ‘I accept,’ he said. ‘Thank you; here is the document,’ said Oakley when he had received the promissory note. After Simon Lock had transferred the paper to his own pocket he remarked: ‘Oakley, the position which you occupy here is quite beneath your high capabilities. I dismiss you. I will write you out a cheque for a month’s wages. Leave the house within an hour.’ ‘With pleasure, sir,’ said Mr. Oakley, exactly as he had accepted the invitation to dinner. CHAPTER XV--ARRIVAL OF SIMON