"Quite safe," he answered, without an instant's hesitation. "I know them both. This fellow has been four times in jail—the first time was seventeen years ago—he got fourteen months for burglary; the second time was thirteen years ago, for attempted murder, when he got five years; the third was eleven years ago; the fourth was nine years back. He's got half a dozen aliases or more, and your man—let me see, yes, he's been once in jail: ten years for forgery, went in when he was eighteen and not been out above three years. It's safe to let them go—quite safe—they've spoken straight this time, couldn't help themselves." While Albeury was speaking I had seen the men gasp. They were staring at him now with a look of abject terror. But still I held my man. "I don't like to risk it," I expostulated. "The whole tale may be a plant." "It's not, Mr. Berrington. I tell you they're straight this time, they've got to be to save their skins. I could put the 'Yard' on to them right away—but it wouldn't serve our purpose, the gang would then escape." His revolver still covered the elder man's chest. "Hand out your gun," he said sharply, "and empty out your pockets—both of you." Soon everything the men's pockets had contained lay upon the floor. Among the things were three pistols, two "jemmies," some curious little bottles, and some queer-looking implements I couldn't guess the use of. Just then a thought occurred to me. "But they'd have robbed this flat," I said, "if what they say is true." "You are mistaken," Albeury answered. "They didn't come for robbery, but on a more serious errand—to put an end to you. I know the methods of this gang pretty well, I can assure you. You would have been found dead, and your man dead too most likely, and the circumstances attending your death would all have pointed to suicide, or perhaps to accidental death. But we've not much time to spare. Come." He turned to the men. "Come over here, both of you," he said sharply, and signalled to me to release my man. I did so. To my surprise, both men seemed cowed. In silence, and without attempt at violence, they followed Albeury across to the escritoire. At that moment it was that the bell of the flat rang loudly. Without stirring, we stood expectantly waiting. I had unlocked the door of the room, and presently Simon entered. "Mr. Osborne would like to see you, sir," he said in his usual tone of deference. "When I told him you had visitors he said he wouldn't come in. He's waiting at the door, sir." "Jack! Splendid!" I exclaimed. "The very man we want to see—you have heard me speak of Mr. Osborne, Albeury, and you know plenty about him." I turned to Simon. "Show him in here at once," I said. "If he still hesitates, say I want particularly to see him."