or I shouldn't be wasting
my time here."

Jacob stretched himself expansively in the easy-chair. He thrust his
hands into his pockets and sighed.

"Just about reached the bank, hasn't she?"

"They're counting out the flimsies right now," Hartwell exulted.

Jacob nodded.

"You fellows have brought this off all right," he reflected. "I
suppose you knew I shouldn't give any trouble."

"We kind of reckoned you'd be sensible," Hartwell admitted.

"Supposing I'd dodged that drug and shown fight?" Jacob went on. "Were
you armed, you fellows?"

Hartwell smiled contemptuously.

"Not for a little job like this," he replied. "When I use
shooting-irons, things happen. Do you get me, Pratt?"

Jacob nodded.

"You seem to have held me very lightly," he grumbled. "I expect Mason
has an automatic in his hip pocket."

"I have never carried firearms in my life," Mason declared, with a
shiver. "I prefer finesse."

Then Jacob began to laugh. He rose from his chair and walked up and
down the room with his hands in his trousers pockets, shaking with
mirth. The two men watched him at first in surprise, afterwards with
growing uneasiness.

"What the hell's got you?" Mason demanded.

"Can't you let us into the joke?" Hartwell suggested.

"I really think I must," Jacob replied, coming to a standstill near
the door. "You know, it may seem strange to you, but honestly I am not
quite chicken food. I knew a bit about you two, and I should never
have come near this dancing class but that I wanted to keep an eye on
Miss Bultiwell. Seemed to me yesterday that things were coming pretty
well to a crisis. I was the only genuine pupil here--empty house,
disappointed adventurers, and all the rest of it. So this morning I
looked in at my bank and told them exactly what to do if any open
cheque were presented with two little dots underneath my signature.
You noticed them, didn't you, Mason? I should think," he concluded,
glancing at his watch, "that in a matter of five minutes we ought to
have some interesting visitors here."

"The little hound's done us!" Mason shouted. "Come on, Hartwell.
Taxi's outside. We shall just have time."

But they faced a transformed and most unexpected Jacob Pratt.
Hartwell, rushing for the door, was adroitly tripped up and fell
heavily. Mason, after a moment's whirlwind sparring, found himself on
his back, seeing a thousand stars. Jacob took up his position in front
of the door.

"Gentlemen," he announc