"Oh, yes!" he said. "It is you--how do you do? Perhaps you are going my way--I can give you a lift--Yes?" Melky drew his man away a yard or two, and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Mister!" he said, with a note of deep confidence which made Yada look at him with a sudden sense of fear. "Mister!--I wouldn't go no way at all if I was you--just now. You're in danger, mister--you shoved your head into the lions' den when you walked in where I've just seen you! Deep, deep is them fellows, mister!--they're having you on toast. I know where you're thinking of going, mister, in that cab. Don't go--take my tip!" "How do you know where I'm going?" demanded Yada. "I was looking over Levendale's shoulder when he wrote that bit of a cheque, mister," answered Melky, in his quietest accents. "You're off to his bank to turn it into cash. And--if you walk into that bank--well, you'll never walk out again, alone! Mister!--they're going to collar you there--there's a trap laid for you!" Melky was watching Yada's face out of his own eye-corners, and he saw the olive-tinted skin pale a little, and the crafty eyes contract. And on the instant he pursued his tactics and his advantage. He had purposely steered the Japanese into a more crowded part of the street, and now he edged him into a bye-alley which led to a rookery of narrow bye-streets beyond. He felt that Yada was yielding--oppressed by a fear of the unknown. But suddenly Yada paused--drawing back from the hand which Melky had kept on his arm. "What are you after?" he demanded. "What is your game, eh? You think to alarm me!--what do you want?" "Nothing unreasonable, mister," answered Melky. "You'll easily satisfy me. Game? Come, now, mister--I know your game! Bank first--to get some ready--then somewhere to pick up a bit of luggage--then, a railway station. That's it, ain't it, now? No blooming good, mister--they're ready for you the minute you walk into that bank! If they don't take you then, they'll only wait to follow you to the station. Mister!--you ain't a cat's chance!--you're done--if you don't make it worth my while to help you! See?" Yada looked round, doubtfully. They had turned two or three corners by that time, and were in a main street, which lay at the back of Praed Street. He glanced at Melky's face--which suggested just then nothing but cunning and stratagem. "What can you do for me?" he asked. "How much do you want? You want money, eh?" "Make it a hundred quid, mister," said Melky. "Just a hundred of the best, and I'll put you where all the police in London won't find you for the rest of today, and get you out of it at night in such a fashion that you'll be as safe as if you was at home. You won't never see your home in Japan, again, mister, if you don't depend on yours truly! And a hundred ain't nothing--considering what you've got at stake." "I haven't a hundred pounds to give you," answered Yada. "I have scarcely any money but this cheque."