“That’s a good ’un,” he muttered, “an’ that’s a good ’un--eh, Lammie? These are good--but the other lot was bad. What a fool--fool--fool! Oh, my God, what a fool you always was!” He groaned the words, swaying from side to side as if in pain. “Come out,” said Amber sharply. Whitey saw him and rose from his seat. “Hullo, Amber,” he said and smiled. “I’m coming ... what about our River of Stars, eh? Here’s a pretty business--here’s money--look.” He thrust out a handful of notes and Amber started back, for they were splotched and blotted with blood. “These are good ’uns,” said Whitey. His lips were trembling, and in his colourless eyes there was a light which no man had ever seen. “The others were bad ’uns. I had to kill old Lammie--he annoyed me.” And he laughed horribly. Under the seat they found Lambaire, shot through the heart. THE END. FOOTNOTES: [1] Thieves’ argot for “detective.” [2] Prevention of Crimes Act. TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.