"This is Greenwood's scheme throughout," said Tomlinson. "No other man living could plot such admirable combinations to effect a certain object, without danger to any one."
"Do you consent to act in this matter, on consideration of retaining for yourself five hundred pounds of the money which you will have to transfer and sell out to-morrow?"
"I do consent," replied Tomlinson, after a few moments' reflection, during which he muttered to himself, "Make money—honestly, if you can; but, at all events, make money."
"To-night—at ten o'clock, will you come to me at my house at Cambridge Heath?" inquired Chichester.
"I will," was the answer. "But let me ask you one question:—what excuse have you made to your wife's friends for this absence of three weeks?"
"In the first place," said Chichester, "her only relations consist of a sister and this sister's husband at Stratford-le-Bow; and they are so immersed in the cares of business, that they have not called once at Cambridge Heath ever since our marriage. Secondly, my wife always lived in a very retired manner, and has very few acquaintances or friends besides my father's family. It was therefore easy to satisfy the one or two persons who did call, with the excuse that Mrs. Chichester had gone on a short visit to some relatives in the country."
"And you feel convinced your precautions are so wisely taken, that she will never open her lips relative to the past?" said Tomlinson.
"I am confident that she will not breathe a word that may lead to her return to the place where she now is," answered Chichester, with a significant look and emphatic solemnity of tone.
"Then I will not hesitate to serve you in this business," said Tomlinson. "To-night—at ten o'clock."
"To-night—at ten o'clock," repeated Chichester; and with these words he departed.