Mollified by this rejoinder, the Colonial stuffed the notes in his pocket, and again burst into his loud laugh. “Now, you’re a clever man, mister--a darned sight cleverer than I am, I expect--and I suppose you haven’t overlooked the fact that I might take the money and give you practically nothing for it.” Grewgus intimated in his suavest manner that such a contingency had not escaped his intelligence. In some cases he would have taken greater precautions. He ended with a handsome compliment. “I don’t know much of you, Newcombe, but I’m pretty sure you’re not one of that sort.” The Colonial looked pleased. “You’re right, Mr. Grewgus, I don’t pretend to be much, but if people play fair and square with me, I play fair and square with them. I’ve never rounded on a pal yet; I shouldn’t round on this swine if he hadn’t played the dirty on me. Why, a week or two ago I would have been cut into little bits before I would have given Howard Stormont away. That was when I believed him to be a pal, not a too generous one perhaps, but still a pal. Have you got me?” “Perfectly,” answered Grewgus smoothly. “You would be a bit of a soft, I think, if you showed Stormont any quarter.” The man’s eyes flashed with sudden fury, it was evident his hatred of his old friend was very intense, and that once having made up his mind, he rejoiced in getting even with him. “Yes, that was a bad evening’s work for him, cleverly as he thought he had managed it. He was always very keen on the poisoning business, although mind you, I can’t honestly say that I ever knew of any case in which he had given it. But he was always fond of reading books on the subject. He used to laugh when he told me how people in the old days used to polish off their enemies with a poisoned glove or flower. He dropped a little drop of something into my drink that night, you bet--something that this fool of a doctor could not detect anyway.” “And if you don’t get yourself out of this neighbourhood he’ll try it again. I shouldn’t say he is the sort of man to be baffled by a first failure,” commented Grewgus, whose object it was to keep the Colonial’s indignation at white heat. “And now, Newcombe, let’s get to business. You’ve counted the money and found it right. It’s for you to carry out your part of the bargain.” There was just a touch of shamefacedness in the man’s expression, hardened character as he was, as he began his story. “I’m not going to say more about myself than I can help, Mr. Grewgus. You won’t blame me for that, I’m sure.” “Not in the least. To be quite frank, I’m not interested in your career, Newcombe. Stormont’s is the only one that concerns me.” “Right-o! And if anything comes of it, you’re not going to drag me in. You promised that at the beginning, didn’t you?” “Practically I did, and I repeat that promise now,” confirmed Grewgus.