"I shall take my leave, since you are likely to be much occupied," said the nobleman.
"On the contrary—pray remain—I insist upon it! I shall not be long with this messenger," cried Mr. Greenwood: "and we must empty another bottle before I allow you to take your departure."
The count suffered himself to be over-ruled; and Mr. Greenwood repaired to his study, well-knowing that, instead of a courier from Paris, he should there find Tom the Cracksman.
Nor was he mistaken. That individual was sitting very comfortably in an arm-chair near the fire, gazing around him, and wondering, amongst other things, where the master of the house kept his strong-box.
"You are known, I believe," said Greenwood, carefully closing the door, "as the Cracksman?"
"That's my title, sir—for want of a better," answered the villain.
"You are, perhaps, astonished that I have sent for you here," continued Greenwood: "but I wish a certain service performed this very night, and for which I will pay you liberally."
"What's the natur' of the sarvice?" demanded the Cracksman, darting a keen and penetrating glance at Greenwood.
"A highway robbery," coolly answered this individual.
"Well, that's plain enow," said the Cracksman. "But first tell me how you come to know of me, and where I was to be seen: because how can I tell but what this is all a plant of yours to get me into trouble?"