The man was half-way out of the room when he turned round.
"No tricks, mind you," he said, "no doing funny business when my back's turned."
"I shall not move from the chair, Tom. You don't seem to trust me."
The ex-valet made two journeys before he deposited a dozen shallow tin boxes on the desk.
"There they are," he said, "now tell me what's the game."
"First of all," said the colonel, "were you serious when you suggested that you knew something about me that would be worth a lot to the police? There goes that drum again, Tom. Do you know what use that drum is to me?"
"I don't know," growled the man. "Of course I meant what I said—and what's this stuff about the drum?"
"Why, the people in the street can hear nothing when that's going," said the colonel softly.
He put his hand in the inside of his coat, as though searching for a pocket-book, and so quick was he that the man, leaning over the table, did not see the weapon that killed him. Three times the colonel fired and the man slid in an inert heap to the ground.