Phil unlocked the door, inserted the key on the other side, disappeared, and turned the lock anew. The two criminals heard his footstep sounding elate, triumphant, and threatening to their ears as he went along the boarded floor. They listened as the footstep crossed the square boulders of the courtyard, and listened still until their sound melted into the blended noises of the outer street. A minute later the step was heard returning, accompanied by another, solid and terrible. They knew it, and their hearts, low as they were already, sank at it. The door opened and Phil reappeared, followed by a policeman.
‘I give these two in charge,’ the young man said, ‘the one as the thief, the other as the receiver of a bundle of bank-notes of the value of eight thousand pounds, the property of my father, Mr. Philip Bommaney of Coalporter’s Alley.’
‘I’m quite willing to go without resistance,’ said Mr. Barter from behind the table. ‘I assisted in the capture, and I am ready to say anything.’
‘That’s the first true word you’ve spoken,’ Steinberg snarled. ‘You can take this thing off,’ holding out his hands. ‘I’ll go quietly. I can get bail in an hour.’
‘Don’t have it taken off, Mr. Bommaney, not if we’re to travel in the same vehicle. He threatened me while you were away. He said if they gave him fifty years he’d kill me when he came out again. He’ll do it, because I made a clean breast of it, didn’t I, Mr. Bommaney? I made a clean breast of it, officer. I’m ready to—tell everything. He’s ruined me, and now he says he’ll kill me because I’m ready to make a clean breast of it.’
‘I choose to be taken separately, if you please. I myself will pay the fare. I won’t travel with that cackling idiot.’
‘I will go with Mr. Bommaney with pleasure,’ said the penitent. ‘I’ll go with you with pleasure anywhere. I’d rather go with you a great deal.’
It was hardly to be expected that Philip should feel very warmly towards either of his two companions, but of the two he misliked Steinberg the less. And, since it seemed humane and reasonable to choose, he chose Steinberg as his travelling companion. The officer set Steinberg’s hat upon his head, and the quartet set out. The sight of a man with his hands tightly bound with a scarlet muffler gathered a momentary little crowd at the Inn gate; but, a pair of hansoms being summoned, captives and captors were speedily relieved from vulgar observation. The station reached, it turned out that the communicative Mr. Barter, in the exuberance of his heart, had exposed to the officer en route the whereabouts of the lost notes. He declared that to his knowledge they rested in a safe, the position of which he indicated, in Steinberg’s Hatton Garden office. The Inspector before whom the charge was made deemed this intelligence worthy of being acted on at once. The two prisoners were searched, and Mr. Barter was so good as to point out, among Steinberg’s keys, those which were necessary for the purposes of investigation. He even went so far as to offer his assistance as guide; but this was declined with a chilliness singularly at variance with the solicitous warmth of the proposal.
‘I think, sir,’ said the Inspector, with an arctic disrespect which was so frozen as to be almost respectful, ‘that we can manage this without your assistance.’
The Divisional Superintendent, being communicated with by telephone, arrived upon the scene. The matter in hand having been laid before him with curt official brevity, he asked for the keys, called to himself a constable, and was preparing to set out, when Philip begged permission to accompany him.