Lawrence rose and took his leave. He dropped in at the nearest telephone call office and late as it was rang up Isidore. The latter was waiting.
"It's all right," he said. "I have had Balmayne here as you suggested. And I have told him exactly as much as you desired him to know. He's just gone off in a great hurry, for any money to Lytton Avenue."
As a matter of fact, Balmayne's cab passed Lawrence a minute or two later. The latter smiled as if well pleased with himself.
"Splendid so far," he murmured. "She'll walk into the trap, in fact they both will. And now I think I have really earned a good night's rest."
Leona Lalage was raging up and down the room as Balmayne entered. The first saffron streaks of dawn were making the electrics thin and yellow. Evidently something had gone wrong. Balmayne waited for his companion to speak.
"I came here with pretty bad news," he said, after a pause. "I went off with Isidore to talk business, and he let out something that absolutely startled me."
"It can't be as bad as my news," Leona said, gloomily. "They have traced the rest of the missing notes directly to my possession."
"What!" Balmayne cried, "were you mad enough to----."
"I am afraid so. It is no time for idle recrimination. The gambling fever was on me the other night and I felt that I must play. I tried to borrow money that evening, but not one of the wretches would trust me with a shilling. I had those notes upstairs; they formed my rescue in case of a collapse. It seemed to me that nobody would be any the wiser. I brought them down, and gambled with them. And beyond all doubt, Gilbert Lawrence has traced them to me."
"Will you be so good as to tell me how?" Balmayne said.