“Forgery,” said the calm Amber, “forgery of Bank of England notes.” “Good gaw,” gasped Peter, and clutched the edge of the table for support. “I was thinkin’ the same,” said Amber, and rose. “I am going to take these precious articles of virtue and bigotry to a safe place,” he said. “Where?--be careful, ol’ man--don’t get yourself into trouble, an’ don’t get me into trouble--after me keepin’ clear of prison all these years,--chuck ’em into the river; borrer a boat down by Waterloo.” He gave his advice in hoarse whispers as Amber left the room, with a little nod, and continued it over the crazy balustrades, as Amber went lightly down the stairs. He turned into the Borough, and walked quickly in the direction of London Bridge. He passed a policeman, who, as bad luck would have it, knew him, and the man looked at him hard, then beckoned him. Amber desired many things, but the one thing in the world that he did not wish was an interview with an inquisitorial policeman. To pass on, pretending not to have noticed the summons, would annoy the man, so Amber stopped, with his most winning smile. “Well, Mr. Amber,” bantered the constable, “I see you’re out--going straight now?” “So straight, my constable,” said Amber earnestly, “that you could use my blameless path as a T square.” He observed the quick, professional “look over” the man gave him. The plates were showing out of his pocket he knew, and the next remark might easily be a request for information regarding the contents of the flat package. His eye roved for a means of escape, and a slow-moving taxi-cab attracted him. He raised his hand and whistled. “Doin’ the heavy now, are you?” asked the constable disapprovingly. “In a sense I am,” said Amber, and without moving he addressed the chauffeur, who had brought his machine to the kerb. “I want you to take me to New Scotland Yard,” he said; then addressing the policeman, he asked, “Do you think Chief Inspector Fell will be on duty?” “Inspector Fell”--there was a note of respect in the constable’s voice--“I couldn’t say, we don’t know very much about the Yard people--what are you going to see him about?” “I am afraid I cannot appease your curiosity, my officer,” said Amber as he stepped into the cab, “but I will inform the chief inspector that you were anxious to know.” “Here, Amber, none of that!” said the alarmed policeman, stepping to the edge of the pavement, and laying his hand upon the door. “You’re not going to say that?” “Not a bit,” Amber grinned, “my little joke; honour amongst policemen, eh?” The cab made a wide circle, and Amber, looking back through the little back window, saw the policeman standing in that indefinable attitude which expresses doubt and suspicion.