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The second man bit his nails and looked up and down the road, apprehensively.

"It's come to something," he said bitterly; "we went out to make our thousands and we've come down to 'chanting' for £20."

"It's the luck," said the other philosophically, "and I haven't done with her by any means. Besides we've still got a chance of pulling off the big thing, Harry. I reckon she's good for a hundred or two, anyway."

At six o'clock on the following afternoon, a man dressed in a dark overcoat, with a soft felt hat pulled down over his eyes stood nonchalantly by the curb near where the buses stop at Regent Street slapping his hand gently with a folded copy of the Westminster Gazette.

That none should mistake his Liberal reading, he stood as near as possible to a street lamp and so arranged himself and his attitude that the minimum of light should fall upon his face and the maximum upon that respectable organ of public opinion. Soon after six he saw the girl approach-