"Well, it's an excellent plan," responded Christopher. "You say that you'll be safe if you're set down in a certain part of Norcaster--near the docks. Now that will suit our plans exactly. You're aware, of course, Mr. Mallalieu, that my aunt here is about to remove her goods and chattels--bequeathed by Mr. Kitely, deceased--from this house? Very well--the removal's to take place tomorrow. I have already arranged with Mr. Strawson, furniture remover, to send up a couple of vans tomorrow morning, very early. Into those vans the furniture will be placed, and the vans will convey it to Norcaster, whence they will be transshipped bodily to London, by sea. Mr. Mallalieu--you'll leave here, sir, in one of those vans!" Mallalieu listened, considered, began to see possibilities. "Aye!" he said, with a cunning glance. "Aye!--that's not a bad notion. I can see my way in that respect. But--how am I going to get into a van here, and got out of it there, without the vanmen knowing?" "I've thought it all out," answered Christopher. "You must keep snug in this room until afternoon. We'll get the first van off in the morning--say by noon. I'll so contrive that the second van won't be ready to start until after it's dusk. When it is ready the men'll go down to fetch their horses--I'll give 'em something to get themselves a drink before they come back--that'll delay 'em a bit longer. And while they're away, we'll slip you into the van--and I shall go with that van to Norcaster. And when we get to the shed at Norcaster where the vans are to be left, the two men will go away with their horses--and I shall let you out. It's a good plan, Mr. Mallalieu." "It'll do, anyhow," agreed Mallalieu, who felt heartily relieved. "We'll try it. But you must take all possible care until I'm in, and we're off. The least bit of a slip----" Mr. Pett drily remarked that if any slips occurred they would not be of his making--after which both he and his aunt coughed several times and looked at the guest-prisoner in a fashion which seemed to invite speech from him. "All right then," said Mallalieu. "Tomorrow, you say? All right--all right!" Miss Pett coughed again and began to make pleats in her apron. "Of course, Christopher," she said, addressing her nephew as if there were no other person present, "of course, Mr. Mallalieu has not yet stated his terms." "Oh!--ah!--just so!" replied Christopher, starting as from a pensive reverie. "Ah, to be sure. Now, what would you say, Mr. Mallalieu? How do you feel disposed, sir?" Mallalieu looked fixedly from aunt to nephew, from nephew to aunt. Then his face became hard and rigid. "Fifty pound apiece!" he said. "That's how I'm disposed. And you don't get an offer like that every day, I know. Fifty pound apiece!" Miss Pett inclined her turbaned head towards her right shoulder and sighed heavily: Mr. Pett folded his hands, looked at the ceiling, and whistled.