"No, I don't. I only know that you were Strode's pal in the old days, and that you did a lot of dirty work for him. You're in with a bad lot, Giles, and will come to a bad end. I only wish I could rescue that poor little brat of a Butsey from you, but the boy's past reforming. I know nothing of him, save that he has an admiration for me, and ran my errands, so that is why I want him to deliver this letter. You'll try and learn who the letter is written to, Giles: but you won't. I can trust Butsey. But why don't you turn honest, man, and make money?"
"How can I? Honest men don't make money. And I gain my living honestly enough as a strong man with Stag."
"Ah, that's a blind to cloak your real character. You're in with Father Don's gang. Why not split on them?" Miss Lorry leaned forward and spoke softly. "For instance, why not call on Mr. Strode's lawyer and tell him Red Jerry came home from Africa about the same time that Strode did?"
"What good would that do?"
"I can't say. Mask knows something, and I want that something told, so that Miss Strode may marry Allen Hill, and be put out of my way, for me to marry Saltars. He admires her, and I want her safely married, beyond his reach. If you told about Red Jerry, Mask might be able to get back Miss Strode's fortune."
"What!"--Giles pricked up his ears--"Fortune?"
"Forty thousand pounds, Giles, in diamonds, I fancy."
Antonio sat down. "I never knew Strode was so rich," he said. "Why, the liar told me at Brentwood that he'd made no money."
"I don't wonder at that," said Miss Lorry; "he knew you'd blackmail him if he confessed to having money."
"I knew enough to make things hot for him," said Giles, biting his large, square fingers, "but I never knew he was rich. Lord, forty thousand pounds! If I'd known that----"