Four gentlemen, carrying heavy bags, dropped into the crowd at different points and went up with it, as though they had just come from the boat.
In the early morning the Belgian mail from Dover steamed into London and discharged her sleepy freight at the terminus.
There the four fellow-travellers separated, each going his own way.
Marston was not afraid to trust his companions with the share of the plunder they carried. Without him they would not be able to dispose of it. In its present shape it could only be put on to the market by a capitalist with machinery for its distribution at his command.
The distribution and realization of £20,000 of stolen bullion was to be the last official act of the eminent firm of Smith and Co., of which Mr. Edward Marston was the directing genius.
In the grey light of the morning Marston let himself into Eden Villa with his latch-key. He went upstairs quietly into his room and disposed of his precious burden, and then crept down again to the dining-room to get some brandy from the chiffonier, for he was tired and faint. In the room on the table he found the letters which had arrived during his absence.
He sat down in the easy-chair, opened them and read them.
About half-past seven Cherry Ribbons, the housemaid came banging about with brooms, blacklead-brushes, and dust-pans.
She came bustling into the dining room and then stopped suddenly as though she had seen a ghost.