“Well, let Bob sleep on the premises,” suggested his friend. “I think I will to-morrow,” said the other. “I’ll have a bed fixed up for him.” “Why not to-night?” asked Levi. “He’s gone,” said the pawnbroker briefly. “Didn’t you hear him shut up?” “He was in the shop five minutes ago,” said Levi. “He left at ten,” said the pawnbroker. “I’ll swear I heard somebody only a minute or two back,” said Levi, staring. “Nerves, as you remarked a little while ago,” said his friend, with a grin. “Well, I thought I heard him,” said Levi. “You might just secure the door anyway.” The pawnbroker went to the door and made it fast, giving a careless glance round the dimly lighted shop as he did so. “Perhaps you could stay to-night yourself,” he said, as he returned to the sitting-room. “I can’t possibly, to-night,” said the other. “By the way, you might lend me a pistol of some kind. With all these cut-throats hanging round, visiting you is a somewhat perilous pleasure. They might take it into their heads to kill me to see whether I have got the stone.” “Take your pick,” said the pawnbroker, going to the shop and returning with two or three secondhand revolvers and some cartridges. “I never fired one in my life,” said Levi dubiously, “but I believe the chief thing is to make a bang. Which’ll make the loudest?” On his friend’s recommendation he selected a revolver of the service pattern, and, after one or two suggestions from the pawnbroker, expressed himself as qualified to shoot anything between a chimney-pot and a paving-stone. “Make your room-door fast to-night, and tomorrow let Bob have a bed there,” he said earnestly, as he rose to go. “By the way, why not make those chalk marks on the door just for the night? You can laugh at them to-morrow. Sort of suggestion of the Passover about it, isn’t there?” “I’m not going to mark my door for all the assassins that ever breathed,” said the Jew fiercely, as he rose to see the other out. “Well, I think you’re safe enough in the house,” said Levi. “Beastly dreary the shop looks. To a man of imagination like myself it’s quite easy to fancy that there is one of your brown friend’s pet devils crouching under the counter ready to spring.” The pawnbroker grunted and opened the door. “Poof, fog,” said Levi, as a cloud streamed in. “Bad night for pistol practice. I shan’t be able to hit anything.” The two men stood in the doorway for a minute, trying to peer through the fog. A heavy, measured tread sounded in the alley; a huge figure loomed up, and, to the relief of Levi, a constable halted before them. “Thick night, sir,” said he to the pawnbroker. “Very,” was the reply. “Just keep your eye on my place to-night, constable. There have been one or two suspicious-looking characters hanging about here lately.” “I will, sir,” said the constable, and moved off in company with Levi.