He swallowed his drink and strolled towards the fireplace without noticing the three occupants in the recesses of the box. Then he caught sight of Stevens, and took a seat by his side. The conversation was conducted in whispers, but it was possible for the listeners to hear most of what was taking place.
"Well, did you manage it all right?" the newcomer asked.
"Don't trouble about that," Stevens muttered. "But I didn't get half as much as you thought I should. Forty pounds was the price my man offered, and he wouldn't give another penny."
The newcomer growled something incoherent. Then there was a chink of money stealthily passed, followed by a volley of oaths from Stevens' companion.
"The game isn't worth playing," he muttered. "Fancy, twenty quid for a job like that, and the chance of hanging into the bargain. I wish I had never gone there, John. I wish I had never met you that night, when you told me all about the house in Fitzjohn Square. I wake up in the night in a bath of cold sweat when I think of it. Fancy going into what you take to be an empty house, and finding a dead body staring up in your face from the floor! Yes, I took his watch and chain all right, but I don't know where I got the pluck from. Took the risk of being strung up for it, bli'me! And me ready to get married, and the date fixed and all! Lord, if I could only see my way to get clear of it all! Twenty quid against a man's life! You go and try it yourself, and see what it's like, my ancient pal. When I recollect as it was you as told me of the broken catch on the studio window, I could bash your face in, I could. I can't forget it. I have tried drink, but that is no use. You can stave it off for an hour or two, and then it comes back worse than ever. And all for the sake of twenty quid!"
Stevens made no reply. He sat there quivering from head to foot, sick with suspense and anxiety, wondering in his mind when Dallas was going to strike. At any other time the ghastly colour of his face would have attracted the attention of his companion, but the other man was occupied with his own thoughts. He was staring moodily into the fireplace.
"Don't talk about it," Stevens managed to say at length. "If you had told me about it at the time, I never should have touched that stuff. But I had got it in my pocket, and I had given my word before ever I had heard of the murder. And how was I to know that there was a chance of Mr. Delahay coming back? If anything happens you will say as much for me, won't you?"
Stevens asked the question with trembling eagerness. He made his request more with a view to impressing Dallas than anything else. But the culprit by his side, apparently, had no idea of the drift of the question, or why it was asked.
"Oh, you have nothing to fear," he said moodily. "At least, it is all right as long as that stuff isn't traced. But what is the use of sitting here jawing like this? Let us go to a music-hall or theatre or something of that kind--anything to get away from one's thoughts. Every now and again----"
The speaker rose to his feet, and Stevens dragged his trembling limbs from the settee. At the same moment, Dallas appeared upon the scene and touched the stranger lightly on the shoulder.