Jimmy picked up his hat and coat from a chair, and nodding to the lawyer, strolled out of the hall.
In the vestibule where the one commissionaire had been were six. Every man was a non-commissioned officer, and, as was apparent from his medals, had seen war service. Jimmy noted the belt about each man and the dangling revolver holster, and approved of the lawyer’s precaution.
“Night guard, sergeant-major?” he asked, addressing one whose crowned sleeve showed his rank.
“Day and night guard, sir,” replied the officer quietly.
“Good,” said Jimmy, and passed out into the street.
And now only the lawyer and Connor remained, and as Jimmy left, they too prepared for departure.
The lawyer was mildly interested in the big, heavy criminal who walked by his side. He was a fairly familiar type of the bull-headed desperado.
“There is nothing I can explain?” asked Spedding, as they stood together in the vestibule.
Connor’s eyes were on the guard, and he frowned a little.
“You don’t trust us very much,” he said.