“About Marl? No, I thought you’d tell her that.” The waiter brought the tea at that moment and there was a silence until he had gone. “Now, I’m a plain-spoken man,” said “Flush” Barnet. “And I’m going to tell you what I call you.” “This sounds interesting,” said the girl, never taking her eyes from his face. “I call you Thorough-Bad Thalia. How’s that? Good, eh?” said Mr. Barnet, leaning back in his chair and surveying her. “Thorough-Bad Thalia! You’re a naughty girl! I was in court the day old Froyant charged you with pinching!” He shook his head waggishly. “You’re as full of information as last year’s almanac,” said Thalia Drummond coolly. “I suppose you didn’t bring me here to exchange compliments?” “No, I didn’t,” admitted “Flush” Barnet, and the jealous Miss Macroy recognised, by certain signs, the fascination that the girl was casting over her lover. “I brought you here to talk business. We’re all friends here, and we’re all in the same old business. I want to tell you straight away that I’m not one of your little thieving crooks, who lives from hand to mouth.” He spoke very correctly, but aspirated his “h’s” just a trifle heavily Thalia duly remarked. “I have people behind me who can find money to any amount if the job is good enough, and you’re spoiling a good pitch, Thalia.” “Oh, I am, am I?” said Thalia. “Admitting I am all you think I am, in what way do I spoil the pitch?” Mr. Barnet rolled his head from side to side with a smile. “My dear girl,” he said with good-natured reproach. “How long do you think you’re going to last, taking money from envelopes and sending on old bits of paper? Eh? If my friend Brabazon hadn’t got the idea into his silly head that the fraud was worked in the post, you’d have had the police in your office in no time. And when I say my friend Brabazon, I’m not being funny, see?” Here, he evidently thought he had said too much, though he found it very difficult indeed to leave the question of his friendship with the austere banker. Challenged, he might have said more, but Thalia offered no comment. “Now, I’m going to tell you something,” he leant over the table and regulated his voice. “Milly and me have been working Brabazon’s bank for two months. There’s a big lot of money to be got, but not out of the bank--Brabazon is a friend of mine--but it can be done through one of the clients, and the man with the biggest balance is Marl.” Her lips curled for the second time that day. “That’s where you’re wrong,” she said quietly. “Marl’s balance wouldn’t buy a row of beans.” He stared at her incredulously, then looked at Milly Macroy with a frown. “You told me that he had the best part of a hundred thousand----” “So he has,” said the girl.