. It isn't as it was
under the old chief constable; this one's not to be bought nor blinded.
I must risk a halter."

"You shall have fifty pounds more."

"You are a gentleman, sir. I should like to have it in hard sovereigns.
I'm afraid of notes. They get traced somehow."

"You shall have it all in sovereigns."

"I want a little in advance, to buy the materials. They are costly,
especially the fulminating silver."

Coventry gave him ten sovereigns, and they parted with the understanding
that Cole should endeavor to blow up the premises on some night when
Little was in them, and special arrangements were made to secure this.

Henry Little and Grace Carden received each of them, an anonymous
letter, on the same day.

Grace Carden's ran thus:--

"I can't abide to see a young lady made a fool of by a villain. Mr.
Little have got his miss here: they dote on each other. She lives in the
works, and so do he, ever since she came, which he usen't afore. They
are in one room, as many as eight hours at a stretch, and that room
always locked. It is the talk of all the girls. It is nought to me, but
I thought it right you should know, for it is quite a scandal. She is a
strapping country lass, with a queerish name. This comes from a strange,
but a well-wisher.

"FAIR PLAY."

The letter to Henry Little was as follows:--

"The reason of so many warnings and ne'er a blow, you had friends in the
trade. But you have worn them out. You are a doomed man. Prepare to meet
your God.

"[Drawing of coffin.]"

This was the last straw on the camel's back, as the saying is.

He just ground it in his hand, and then he began to act.

He set to work, packed up models, and dispatched them by train; clothes
ditto, and wrote a long letter to his mother.

Next day he was busy writing and arranging papers till the afternoon.
Then he called on Grace, as related, and returned to the works about six
o'clock: he ordered a cup of tea at seven, which Jael brought him. She
found him busy writing letters, and one of these was addressed to Grace
Carden.

That was all she saw of him that night; for she went to bed early, and
she was a sound sleeper.

It was nine o'clock of this same evening.

Mr. Coventry, disguised in a beard, was walking up and down a certain
street opposite the great door of the works.

He had already walked and lounged about two hours. At last Cole joined
him for a moment and whispered in a tone full of mean