“We can arrange about the guard,” said the other.
“Why not get at the lawyer?” It was Curt Goyle who made the suggestion.
The stranger frowned.
“The lawyer cannot be got at,” he said shortly. “Now, are you with me?”
There was no need to ask. Connor was sorting the notes into little bundles on the table, and the men came up one by one, took their money, and after a few words with Connor took their leave, with an awkward salutation to the stranger.
Bat was the last to go.
“To-morrow night—here,” muttered Connor.
He was left alone with the newcomer, save for the old man, who hadn’t changed his attitude, and was still in the midst of some imaginary conversation.
“Who is this?” the stranger demanded.
Connor smiled.