"You can't. Right'o!" said Mr. Driver, rising. "At present the Admiralty only suspect. To-morrow they'll know, and you'll know too, Septimus Toft, when you get five years without the option of a fine."
"Please, please don't speak so loudly," begged Mr. Toft, beside himself with fears and anxieties. Then, to put on time whilst he collected his scattering thoughts, "What do you want to do with the key?"
"Wear it with my medals, of course," said the man sarcastically. "If you want further pertic'lers you won't get 'em, but I promise to return the key within forty-eight hours, and all your plate'll be there."
"It's a very extraordinary idea," said Mr. Toft incredulously.
"It is; and I'm a very extraordinary man, and you're a bloomin' ordinary one. Will you let me have the key and a visitin' card, or not?"
"If anyone asks how you got them what will you say?"
"Say I took 'em from you while you were asleep in an opium den, or when we met in a tunnel—any blessed thing you like."
Mr. Toft scarcely heard him. He was thinking over the pros and cons of the situation as rapidly as his nervous system would allow. He was Treasurer of the Fellmongers' Company, and he alone had the key of the plate safe. In the ordinary course of events he would be elected Prime Warden next year, but if there were any trouble about the plate he might not be. Better that, though, than a public exposure of his business methods. The key might have been stolen from him. Everyone lost keys now and then. Of course no one could think that the theft was to his advantage, and it would save him from all bother at the Admiralty—but would it?
"If I let you have the key," he asked, "how do I know that you won't come in a similar way again?"
"Give it up," said Mr. Driver. "Never was good at riddles, and I didn't come here to be asked 'em neither. What the blazes do I care about what you'll know or what you won't know? I know what I know, and that's enough to account for your hair bein' so thin on top. If you don't hand me that key without any more rottin' I'll just drop this in the first pillar-box I come across." He pulled out a fat blue envelope and flourished it in front of Mr. Toft's blinking eyes. It was addressed to the Financial Secretary of the Admiralty, and was marked on one side "Important," and on the other "Private and Urgent." There was an immense seal with the impression of a five-shilling piece.