“A lot. There is nothing more difficult to get at than a gang, because they cover each other’s traces. I pay you a certain sum in cash, you deduct your commission and hand the remainder over to the Plinlimon woman, she pays her Pa, and gets a few hundred to pay her milliner. Who’s to prove anything? No cheques have passed.”
“Just so,” said Voles.
“I’m glad you see my point,” replied Jones. “Now if you can’t untie a knot, you can always cut it if you have a knife—can’t you?”
Voles shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, I said you were a knife, didn’t I, and I’m going to cut this knot with you, see my point?”
“Not in the least.”
“I’m sorry, because that makes me speak plain, and that’s unpleasant. This is my meaning. I have to get that property back, or else I will go to the police and rope in the whole gang. Tell the whole story. I will accuse Marcus. Do you understand that? Marcus, and Marcus’ daughter, and Marcus’ son, and you. And I won’t do that to-morrow, I’ll do it to-day. To-night the whole caboodle of you will be in jail.”
“You said you hadn’t come to fight,” cried Voles. “What do you want? Haven’t you had enough from me? Yet you drive me like this. It’s dangerous.”
“I have not come to fight. At least not you. On the contrary, when I get this property back, if it turns out worth a million, I’ll maybe pay you your losses. You’ve been paying the piper for Marcus, it seems to me.”
“I have,” groaned Voles.