Mr. Tillson raised his episcopal eyebrows.
"And have you succeeded in devising this — um — novel system of remunerative equivocation?"
"I have invented a new swindle, if that's what you mean," said Happy Fred. "At least, it's new enough for me. And the beauty of it is that you don't have to do anything criminal — anyway, not that anyone's ever going to know about. It's all quite straight and above-board, and whatever happens you can't get pinched for trying it, if you're clever enough about the way you work it."
"Have you made any practical experiments with this new method?" inquired Mr. Tillson.
"I haven't," said Happy Fred lugubriously. "And the trouble is that I can't. Here am I carrying this wonderful idea about with me, and I can't use it. That's why I've come to you. What I need, Broads, is a partner who won't double-cross me, who's clever with his hands and hasn't got any kind of police record. That's why I can't do it myself. The bloke who does this has got to be a respectable bloke that nobody can say anything against. And that's where you come in. I've been worrying about it for weeks, thinking of all the good money there is waiting for me to pick up, and wondering who I could find to come in with me that I could trust. And then just last night somebody told me that you were back; and I said to myself, 'Fred,' I said, 'Broads Tillson is the very man you want. He's the man who'll give you a square deal, and won't go and blow your idea about.' So I made up my mind to come and see you and see what you felt about it. I'm willing to give you my idea, Broads, and put up the capital — I've got a bit of money saved up — if you'll count me in fifty-fifty."
"What is this idea?" asked Mr. Tillson cautiously.
Happy Fred helped himself to another drink, swallowed half of it, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
"It goes like this," he said, with the unconscious reverence of a poet introducing his latest brain-child to the world. "You go to one of the big jewellers, posing as a rich man who's got a little bit of stuff in Paris, see? That ought to be easy for you. You want to send this girl a lovely big diamond necklace or something out of his stock that you can get for about a thousand quid — that's as much as I can put up. This necklace has got to be sent by post, and so of course it's got to be insured. Now it's made into a parcel; and all this time you've got in your pocket another box about the same size, with pebbles in it to make it about the same weight. This is where the man who does it has got to be clever with his hands, like you are. As soon as the necklace has been packed in its box —"
Mr. Tillson sighed.
"There's nothing new about that," he protested. "You haven't got the money to reimburse this jeweller for his necklace, and therefore you desire the sealed package to be preserved in his safe until you post him the money and request him to send it to you. And when he tires of waiting for his instructions he opens the package and discovers that you have absconded with the necklace and left him the receptacle containing the pebbles. That's a very old one, Fred, don't you think?"