“If you will call for silence,” he said to the bullet-headed man, “there is something else I would like to say.” The bullet-headed man called at once for order. “Gentlemen,” said Westerham, addressing the men for the third and last time that night, “will you allow me to range myself on your side? I really think I have proved myself sufficiently a man to warrant my asking this. “I will not take your oath, but if you will take the word of a gentleman, I will pledge it that, come what may, I will never reveal to anyone what has taken place to-night.” There was considerable grumbling at this, but the bullet-headed man forcibly expressed his favourable opinion. “Look here, mates,” he cried, turning to the others, “I know a gentleman when I see one, and I know that this gentleman is to be trusted. If Melun wants to do his own dirty work, let him do it. “In spite of all his boasting our hands have been pretty clean up to the present. It is quite true that we have always been prepared to put a man out of the way if it had to be done, but we have never done it yet. “And there is no reason, so far as I can see, that we should begin now. So long as we know where to find this gentleman, that should be good enough for us. I am not much of a hand at an argument, but one thing seems to me pretty plain. If this gent”—he indicated Westerham—“had wanted to give us away he would have given us away long since. No, you may depend upon it that whatever his reasons may be he's got as good cause to keep silence as we have. Don't you think that's right?” Again there was a good deal of grumbling, but on the other hand there was general assent. “So I will tell you what we will do,” continued the bullet-headed man, now certain of his ground. “We will let him go on one condition—that he allows me and another man to accompany him home. That seems to be fair. It may be taking a bit of a risk, but it is the only thing to be done unless we want to do murder, and that is not our game. I am not taking any chances of hanging while there's money to be got, and no doubt but that this gentleman will use us fair.” Westerham caught his meaning, and for the second time took out his pocket-book. “I said that you would not steal these notes, and I also said that I would not give them away. But I have changed my mind. There they are—and I give you my word that to-morrow I will take the embargo off. It will be easy enough for you to find out whether they are posted as lost or not. I can scarcely do more.” To this there was greedy assent, and Westerham realised that he was free. He did not even wait for the bullet-headed man's full approval, but reached out for his hat. There was some dispute as to whom the notes should be given, and finally it was decided that Mackintosh—such was the name of the bullet-headed man—should keep them in his own charge. And then he and a second man by the name of Hicks accompanied Westerham out.