“Very pretty,” he remarked. “Very pretty indeed. And how, in your vernacular, do you propose to get away with the swag, Mr. Flash Pete? I rather think the police—whom I propose to call up on the ’phone in one minute—will be delighted to see such an old and elusive friend.” He glanced at the girl, and laughed again at the look on her face. “What’s he mean, Archie?” she cried, wildly. “What’s he mean?” “I mean,” Perrison sneered, “that Mr. Archie Longworth is what is generally described as a swell crook with a reputation in certain unsavoury circles extending over two or three continents. And the police, whom I propose to ring up, will welcome him as a long-lost child.” He walked towards the telephone, and with a little gasp of fear the girl turned to Archie. “Say it’s not true, dear—say it’s not true.” For a moment he looked at her with a whimsical smile; then he sat down on the high fender round the open fire. “I think, Mr. Perrison,” he murmured, gently, “that if I were you I would not be too precipitate over ringing up the police. The engaging warrior who sent this letter to Miss Daventry put in yet one more enclosure.” Perrison turned round: then he stood very still. “A most peculiar document,” continued the man by the fire, in the same gentle voice, “which proves very conclusively that amongst their other activities Messrs. Smith and Co. are not only the receivers of stolen goods, but are mixed up with illicit diamond buying.” In dead silence the two men stared at one another; then Longworth spoke again. “I shall keep these three documents, Mr. Perrison, as a safeguard for your future good behaviour. Mr. Daventry can pay a certain fair sum or not as he likes—that is his business: and I shall make a point of explaining exactly to him who and what you are—and Smith—and Gross. But should you be disposed to make any trouble over the necklace—or should the idea get abroad that Flash Pete was responsible for the burglary last night—it will be most unfortunate for you—most. This document would interest Scotland Yard immensely.” Perrison’s face had grown more and more livid as he listened, and when the quiet voice ceased, unmindful of the girl standing by, he began to curse foully and hideously. The next moment he cowered back, as two iron hands gripped his shoulders and shook him till his teeth rattled. “Stop, you filthy swine,” snarled Longworth, “or I’ll break every bone in your body. Quite a number of men are blackguards, Perrison—but you’re a particularly creeping and repugnant specimen. Now—get out—and do it quickly. The nine-thirty will do you nicely. And don’t forget what I’ve just said: because, as there’s a God above, I mean it.” “I’ll be even with you for this some day, Flash Pete,” said the other venomously over his shoulder. “And then——” “And then,” said Longworth, contemptuously, “we will resume this discussion. Just now—get out.” V