His thoughts turned to the proposal Dangle had made him. It was certainly fair—too fair, he still thought—but if it was a genuine offer, he need have no qualms about accepting it. Frau Schulz, Mrs. Price, Joan and himself were all promised shares of the profits. A clause could be put in covering Price, if he afterwards turned out to be alive. The gang might be a crowd of sharpers and thieves—so at least the melancholy Speedwell had said—but, as Cheyne came to look at it, they had not really broken the law to a much greater extent than he had himself. His case to the authorities—suppose he were to lay it before them—would not be so overwhelmingly clear. Something could be said for—or rather against—both sides. If he had to give way he might as well give way with a good grace. He therefore choked down his rage, and turning to Dangle, said quietly: “I see you’ve won this trick. I’ll accept your offer and go with you.” Dangle, evidently delighted, sprang to his feet. “Splendid, Mr. Cheyne,” he cried warmly, holding out his hand. “Shake hands, won’t you? You’ll not repent your action, I promise you.” But this was too much for Cheyne. “No,” he declared. “Not yet. You haven’t satisfied me of your _bona fides_. I’m sorry, but you have only yourselves to thank. When I find Miss Merrill at liberty and see Schulz’s cipher, I’ll be satisfied, and then I will join with you and give you all the help I can.” Dangle seemed rather dashed, but he laughed shortly as he answered: “I suppose we deserve that after all. But you will soon be convinced. There is just a formality to be gone through before we start. Though you may not believe my word, we believe yours, and we have agreed that all that we want before taking you further into our confidence, is that you swear an oath of loyalty to us. You won’t object to that, I presume?” Cheyne hesitated, then he said: “I swear on my sacred honor that I will loyally abide by the spirit of the agreement which you have outlined in so far as you and your friends act loyally to me and to Miss Merrill, and to that extent only.” “That’s reasonable, and good enough,” Dangle commented. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and phone to the others. You will understand,” he explained on his return, “that my friends are some distance away from Wembley, and it will therefore take them a little time to get in. If they start now they will be there as soon as we are.” It was getting towards ten o’clock when Cheyne and Dangle turned into the gateway of Earlswood. A yellow car stood at the footpath, at sight of which Dangle exclaimed: “See, they’ve arrived.” His ring brought Blessington to the door, and the latter greeted Cheyne apologetically, but with the same charm of manner that he had displayed in the Edgecombe Hotel at Plymouth.