cigarette.

"Get those things for me?" he asked.

"They're in the dressing room, sir."

"Let's have a look."

Doran retired and returned almost immediately with a complete fireman's
outfit. Barraclough tried on the helmet and nodded approvingly.

"Good enough. Stick 'em somewhere out of sight." And while Doran
obeyed he added, "Damn silly idea, isn't it?"

"I haven't heard it, sir."

"Oh, it has its points, I suppose. See, I've got to get clear of here
tonight and if--well--another scheme fails--I'm going to have a shot at
it this way. At eleven forty-five you'll go out and ring up some fire
engines."

"Just so, sir."

"I shall burn brown paper in that grate with the register closed.
Windows open at the bottom--plenty of smoke--effect of flames produced
by switching off and on the electric light. It ought to be good for a
crowd of about ten thousand. Soon as the engines roll up I go out
dressed as a fireman. Car at the top of St. James's Street. Coal
train in a siding at Addison Road which pulls out at twelve five. Me
under a tarpaulin somewhere. Whoosh! Gone!"

"And after that, sir?"

"Ah!" said Barraclough, "that's another story."

"Do you fancy it much yourself, sir?"

"Lord knows! The crowd ought to help. Reduces the odds in my favour a
bit."

"At quarter to twelve, sir?"

"Um. That'll be after the gentlemen have gone. Clear away this stuff
and put out some drinks. They'll be here at ten thirty. I'm going to
change into something thinner, that won't brush up under that fireman
gear. Got those notes?"

"Here, sir."

Doran produced a bulky package of bank notes.

"Good man."

He nodded and entered the bedroom to which there was a door below the
fireplace.

A little later the bell rang imperatively, followed by a tattoo on the
knocker.

"Who's that?" came from Barraclough's voice behind the closed door.

"Don't know, sir."

"What's time?"

"Ten past."

"They can't have arrived yet. Say I'm out."

Doran withdrew and returned almost immediately.

"Sir, there's----"

Barraclough threw open the door and came into the room. He was in
trousers and a shirt and was fastening a tie.

"Well?"

"It's Miss Irish, sir. I said you were out but she didn't believe me.
Insisted on coming in."

"Lord, that's awkward. Where did you leave her?"

"The smoking room."

"Say what she wanted?"

"To see you, sir--very imperative."

Barraclough bit his moustache and gla