Suddenly, he started and listened. His alert ear had caught the sound of approaching footsteps on the stairs outside. A moment later came three deliberate knocks on the door, a signal which indicated a friendly visitor. Quickly, Keralio went forward and withdrew the bolt.
François entered, suit case in hand. Hardly before he could take breath after the long climb, Keralio exclaimed:
"Well, how are they going?"
The Frenchman grinned.
"À merveille! Like hot cakes. I've passed all of zem. Good work, is it not?"
"And the real stuff?" demanded Keralio.
"Is in here."
The valet pointed to the leather case.
Eagerly Keralio seized the portmanteau, and, opening it, emptied the contents. A perfect shower of greenbacks—genuine ones this time—fell upon the floor. With shaking hands, like a miser who trembles as he handles his hoarded gold, Keralio picked up the money by armfuls and, taking it to a table, proceeded to count it.
"Is it all here?" he demanded suspiciously.