The ex-remover walked shakily across, and put a flabby, insinuative hand on the other’s shoulder.
“I think I may say I’ve been a good friend to you, Robert?”
Gardener muttered an uneasy affirmative.
“To justify a great principle, Robert? It’s a mere matter of form; it's——humph! A moment, if you please. Think of it while I’m gone.”
A rap at the front door had obtruded itself. Mr. Plumley tiptoed elephantinely out, was heard murmuring a few minutes in the hall, and returned shortly in a state of suavely perspiring mystery.
“It’s the dealer himself, Robert,” he whispered, his little eyes twinkling. “He’s come to make another attempt. I’ll humour him—humour him, never fear. Now, you must be quick. Will you do this little thing to oblige me?”
“Supposing I were let in, sir?”
Mr. Plumley coughed.
“I guarantee you, of course. It’s just a confidence between us. Go to fifty pound—not a penny less nor more—and let him take it at any figure he likes, beyond. He won’t fail you. You’ll do it, Robert?”
“I don’t favour the job, sir.”