“Now, Fay,â€� he continued impressively, “you have everything. The address in Richmond Hill is Number 4, Rose Crescent. Go there tomorrow about midnight and prowl the house. Get the little silver greyhound and talk things over with the courier—who failed to do what you are going to do.â€�
Fay moved toward the door after picking up his cap. MacKeenon glided to his side. The cracksman stood erect. He turned slowly and stared at Sir Richard, who was studying the cipher boxes.
“Au revoir,� said Fay.
The chief swung his head and rested his chin on his chest.
“Same to you,� he said. “You’re hep! Now blow! Mum’s the office, pal! The ducat and more kale will be ready for you at London Bridge Station when you’re ready to go. Inspector MacKeenon, the niftiest gumshoe runner out of the Yard, will fetch them at your order. Eh, Mac?�
“Weil, I don’ know! I daurna disagree wi’ twa o’ you!�
Sir Richard came back to respectability as he lifted his chin and advanced his hand toward Fay.
“Drop around Cockspur Street and the Strand,â€� he said. “Get the old, old moss out of your head, Fay. Talk to the splendid men of your own country who made victory possible. The town is full of Pershing’s boys! And Fay—â€�
The cracksman’s hand was on the door.
“What is it?� he asked.