"We had better walk along," he said. "I suppose your friend explained to you that this little job will put twenty pounds in your pocket? It is a mere matter of opening a safe. The getting into the premises is perfectly simple, because I have come provided with the keys. You know the City and Provincial Bank?"
The other man grinned, and remarked that banks generally were a bit above his form. Anstruther smiled as he reflected that he had the keys of the bank premises proper in his pocket, so that there would be no great difficulty in getting into the counting house, and from there to Carrington's private office. As to the night watchmen--that was another matter altogether. In the face of recent happenings, they would be more alert than they had been in the past; but, at the same time, their attention would be bestowed more upon the cellars than the office.
The road was entirely deserted now, as Anstruther crossed the street and gently turned the key in the outer door. A moment later, and the pair were in Carrington's private office. They could afford to turn the lights up, for the iron shutters outside made a perfect screen. In one corner of the room stood the safe upon which the man who called himself Maggs was intended to operate. Anstruther pointed at it impatiently.
"Get to work at once," he said. "There is something inside that I must take away to-night."
"A fine set of Cellini plate, I presume?" Maggs said, in an entirely different voice. "No, you don't, Mr. Anstruther. If you put your hand in your hip pocket, I'll blow your brains out. I have the advantage of you here, and I am going to keep it."
"Who the deuce are you?" Anstruther stammered. His hands had fallen to his side, and his face was pale and ghastly. "Who are you?"
The so-called burglar snatched away his wig and ragged beard, and with a handkerchief changed the aspect of his face.
"I am Inspector Bates," he said. "Very much at your service."