Over the drinks they talked for a little on a variety of subjects--the weather, politics, trade--while the barmaid remained within hearing. Both were craftsmen in their particular line, and they spoke as equal to equal. Ike had made a specialty of getting cheque signatures for a little clique of clever forgers, and had his own ways of getting rid of his confederates' ingenuity. Nor was he above working side-lines if they promised profit, and in that respect, at least, he resembled Dutch Fred. His abilities in many directions had been recognised by Harry Goldenburg. It was not till they had gone over to a little table in a remote corner that Dutch Fred broached Goldenburg's name, in a tentative reference to the murder in Grosvenor Gardens. "Funny thing you should speak about that," commented Ike, glancing casually about to make certain that no one was within earshot. "I hear that there's piles of stuff in that house, and there's only a butler and a man named Lomont, who was Grell's secretary, living there now to look after things. It would be easy to do a bust there." Fred's pulses jumped a little faster as he toyed with his glass. He knew something of Red Ike's methods, and felt certain that some proposal was coming. He could see the gratitude of Foyle taking some tangible form if he were able to bring this off. He had no scruples. Even if Ike suspected treachery after the event--well, he could look after himself. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head doubtfully. "It isn't like a lonely suburban street." Ike grinned. "I'm not a mug, am I? What do you say to walking in the front door, opening it with a key, and with the keys of the rest of the house in my 'sky'? All I want is a straight man to keep doggo." "Criminy! Have you got the twirls?" he gasped. "Where did you get 'em?" "Never mind where they came from. I've got 'em. That's enough. More than that, I've got a lay-out of the house all marked out on paper, with every bit of stuff marked out where it ought to be. It's as easy as falling off a log." "Am I in it?" demanded Freddy. "Why should I be telling you if you wasn't? You keep doggo outside if you like." More drinks were ordered, and Freddy came to business. "What do I get?" Ike let his chin rest meditatively on his slim fingers. "Let's see. I cut in for a third, and I shall do all the work. I'll give you a quarter of that third. You won't have anything to do, except give me the office if anything goes wrong." "'Struth!" Freddy was more hurt than indignant. "You aren't going to Jew me down like that. Who else is in it?" "Never mind who else is in it. I give you first chance, as a pal. You can take it or leave it." "Right, I'm on," agreed Freddy. CHAPTER XXV The compact between Heldon Foyle and Sir Ralph Fairfield had begun to bear fruit. For three days an advertisement had appeared in the personal column of the _Daily Wire_-- "Will R. G. communicate with R. F. Very anxious."