He was wondering whether it might have the desired effect if he were to produce a scrap of old yellow pocket handkerchief, and affect to be overcome, when they heard a hurried footstep outside. Both looked up anxiously. There was a quick knocking at the door, and a shabby-looking man dressed in black entered.
"Well, Leekson, what news?" Mr. Benjamin asked quickly.
"He's off," was the prompt reply. "Continent. Afternoon train. Waterloo, three o'clock."
Mr. Benjamin's eyes sparkled.
"I knew it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Job's over, Leekson. Get me a cab, and go to the office for your money."
"You're going to let him go!" cried Mr. Levy piteously.
"Not I. I'm going with him, dad. A fifty-pound note from the safe, quick."
Mr. Levy gave it to him with trembling fingers.
"Now, dad, listen to me," Benjamin said earnestly, reaching down his overcoat from the peg. "Miss Thurwell will be here some time to-day, I'm certain, to try and buy those letters. I've changed my mind about them. Sell."
"Sell," repeated Mr. Levy, surprised. "I thought that that was what we were not to do."