Vandermeer said bitterly: “When a man is hunted by poverty he can’t run straight, for at the end of the straight path is death.” “And you, Huckaby?” “I also have bolted into a drain or two in my time.” “Good,” said Quixtus. “Now we understand one another.” “You may understand us,” said Huckaby, tugging at his untidy beard, “but I’m hanged, drawn, and quartered if we understand you.” “I thought I had made myself particularly clear,” said Quixtus. “For my part,” said Billiter, “I can’t make out what you’re getting at except to make us confess that we’re wrong ‘uns.” “Dear, dear,” said Quixtus. “I can’t understand it,” said Vandermeer, looking intently at him across the table out of his little sharp eyes. “I can’t understand it, unless it is that you have some big scoop on and want us to come into it, so as to do the dirty work. If that’s so I’m on, so long as it’s safe. But I’ve steered clear of the law up to now and have no desire to run the risk of penal servitude.” “Oh Lord no!” cried Billiter with a shiver. Quixtus pressed the burning stump of his cigar against his plate and looked up with a smile. “Please make your minds easy on that score. I have been reading criminology lately with considerable interest, and I have gone through a volume or two of ‘The Newgate Calendar,’ and the result of my reading is the conviction that crime is folly. It is a disease. It is also vulgar. No, I have no desire to increase my personal possessions in any way; neither do I contemplate the commission of acts of violence against the person or the destruction of property. Anything therefore that comes within the category of crime may be dismissed from our consideration.” “Then in the name of Gehenna,” exclaimed Huckaby, “what is it that you want us to do?” “It is very simple,” said Quixtus. “I may plot out an attractive scheme of wickedness, but the circumstances of my early training have left me without the power to execute it. I should like to call on any one of you for guidance, perhaps practical assistance. I may want to see and hear of wickedness going on around me. I would count on you to gratify my curiosity. Lastly, not having an inventive mind, it being rather analytic than synthetic, I should welcome any suggestions that you might bring me.” “It’s a rum go,” said Billiter, “but I’m on, so long as there’s money in it.” “There will be money in it,” said Quixtus. “Then I’m on too,” said Vandermeer. “You will find us, my dear Quixtus,” said Huckaby, “your very devoted Familiars—your Oliviers le Daim, your Eminences Grises, your _âmes damnées_. We’ll be your ministering evil spirits, your genii from Eblis. It’s a new occupation for a Fellow of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, but it’s not unalluring. And now, as Billiter has finished the decanter, may I take the liberty of asking for another bottle, so that Vandermeer and I can drink to the health of our chief.” “With all the pleasure in life,” said Quixtus.