"Well, what can you tell me?" he said.
Simon put the cheque away.
"The tip is to get out," he said bluntly; and Mr. Journ went white.
"Wha-what?" he stammered.
"You shouldn't complain," said the Saint callously. "You've been going for four years, and you must have made a packet. Now we're on to you. When I tell you to get out, I mean it. The Yard didn't ask us to keep an eye on you. What they did was to send an order through for a raid this afternoon. Chief Inspector Teal is coming down himself at four o'clock to take charge of it. That's worth two hundred pounds to know, isn't it?"
He stood up.
"You've got about an hour to clear out — you'd better make the most of it," he said.
For several minutes after the detective had gone Mr. Journ was in a daze. It was the first time that the consequences of his actions had loomed up in his vision as glaring realities. Arrest — police court — remand — the Old Bailey — penal servitude — the whole gamut of a crash, he had known about in the abstract like everyone else; but his self-confident imagination had never paused to put himself in the leading role. The sudden realisation of what had crept up upon him struck him like a blow in the solar plexus. He sat trembling in his chair, gasping like a stranded fish, feeling his knee-joints melting like butter in a frightful paralysis of panic. Whenever he had visualized the end before, it had never been like this: it had been on a date of his own choosing, after he had made all his plans in unhurried comfort, when he could pack up and beat his trail for the tall timber as calmly as if he had been going off on a legitimate business trip, without fear of interference. This catastrophe pouncing on him out of a clear sky scattered his thoughts like dry leaves in a gale.
And then he got a grip on himself. The getaway still had to be made. He still had an hour — and the banks were open. If he could keep his head, think quickly, act and plan as he had never had to do before, he might still make the grade.
"I'm feeling a bit washed out," he told his secretary; and certainly he looked it. "I think I'll go home."