"Then your estimation of woman is far poorer than I believed, Ralph," responded Carlier. "If a girl loves a man truly and well, as apparently this young lady loves you, then surely she ought not to be sneered at. We have, all of us, loved at one time or other in our lives." "You're always a sentimental fool where women are concerned, Adolphe," laughed his companion. "I may be," answered the other. "And I can assure you that I would never dare to marry while leading the life I do." "And what better life can you ever hope to lead, pray? Do we not get excitement, adventure, money, pleasure--everything that makes life worth living? Neither you nor I could ever settle down to the humdrum existence of so-called respectability. But are these people who pose as being so highly respectable really any more honest than we are? No, my dear friend. The sharks on the Bourse and the sharp men of business are just as dishonest. They are thieves like ourselves under a more euphonious name." Carlier smiled at his friend's philosophy. Yet he was thinking of the future of the girl with whom he was, as yet, unacquainted--the girl who had chosen to link her life with that of the merry, careless, but unscrupulous young fellow before him. They were bosom friends, it was true, yet he knew, alas! how utterly callous Ralph Ansell was where women were concerned, and he recollected certain ugly rumours he had heard, even in their own undesirable circle. They spoke of Jean again, and Ralph told him her name. "We will dine there to-morrow night," he added. "Then we will come on here, and go forth to Bond Street at half-past eleven. I've watched the police for the past week, and know their exact beat. Better bring round the things you've brought from Paris in a taxi to-morrow morning." The "things" referred to were an oxy-acetylene gas-jet, and a number of the latest inventions of burglarious tools--indeed, all the equipment of the expert safe-breaker. That night the pair went forth and dined at the Cafe Royal in Regent Street, and afterwards went to the Palace Theatre, finishing up at a night club in Wardour Street. Then, on the following morning, Carlier returned, bringing with him the heavy but unsuspicious-looking travelling trunk he had conveyed from Paris. In the evening Ralph and he went to the Provence Restaurant, but, to their disappointment, Jean was not there. She had been home, but had left half an hour later to go to Balham to visit one of her fellow-assistants at the Maison Collette who was dangerously ill. She had taken with her some fruit and flowers. Annoyed at her absence, Ralph had suggested the Trocadero for dinner. "It's better than in this wretched little hole," he added to Carlier, in an undertone. "And we'll want a good dinner before we get to business," he added, with a sinister grin.