“I had some English money with me, and the purchase was effected. I gave strict instructions that the place was not to be let in any circumstances, and that it was to remain as it was until I came back from Australia—I posed as a wealthy Australian who was repurchasing the house in which he was born. “From Winchester I reached London, never dreaming that I was in any danger. My companion had given me the name of an English crook, an acquaintance of his, who, he said, was the finest safe-man in Europe—a man who was called ‘Lyme’ and who, I discovered many years after, was the same Harry Lyme. He told me Lyme would help me in any emergency. “And that emergency soon arose. The first man I saw when I put my foot on the platform at Waterloo was the purser of the _Mantania_, and with him was the ship’s detective. I dodged back, and, fortunately for me, there was a suburban train leaving from the opposite platform, and I went on to Surbiton, reaching London by another route. Afterwards, I learnt that my companion had been arrested, and in his half-drunken state had told all he knew. The thing to do now was to cache the remainder of the money—thirty-five million francs. I immediately thought of Harry Lyme. I have never suffered from the illusion that there is honour amongst thieves. My own experience is that that is one of the most stupid of proverbs. But I thought that at least I might make it worth Lyme’s while to help me out of a mess. “I learnt from the newspapers that there was a special force of police looking for me, and that they were watching the houses of well-known criminals, to whom, they thought, I might gravitate. At first I thought this was a bluff, but I was to discover that this was not the case. I reached Lyme’s house, in a disreputable thoroughfare in Camden Town. The fog was thick and yellow, and I had some difficulty in finding my way. It was a small house in a mean, squalid street, and at first I could get no reply to my knocking. Then the door was opened cautiously. “‘Is that Lyme?’ I asked. ‘He’s not at home,’ said a man, and he would have shut the door, but my instinct told me this was the fellow I was seeking, and I put my foot in the way of the closing door. ‘Come in,’ he said at last, and led the way into a small room, the only light of which was a lantern which stood on the table. The room was thick with fog, for the window was open, as I learnt afterwards, to allow Lyme to make his escape. “‘Are you the American?’ he asked. ‘You’re mad to come here. The police have been watching this place ever since this afternoon.’ I told him briefly what my difficulty was. ‘I have here thirty-five million francs—that’s a million, three hundred thousand pounds,’ said I, ‘and there’s enough for both of us. Can you plant this whilst I make a get-away?’ ‘Yes, I will,’ he said. ‘What do I get out of it?’ ‘I’ll give you half,’ I promised, and he seemed to be satisfied with that.