“Kindly refrain from slang, Chester.�
“Oh, you!â€� he snapped, with his eyes flashing. “You—you lady! Since when? I suppose you’ve
forgotten the Maiden Lane affair or the pint of uncut stones we switched on the sucker who came up from the Cape. I—â€�
Saidee Isaacs had risen and stood facing him. “Another word,â€� she said, “and it’s all off between us! I had you sprung, to use your old slang. I used my influence with Sir Richard. I told him that you were the only living man who could open that box in Holland, without leaving a trace. He mentioned other box-men—Sheeney Mike and Foley the Goat and little Eddie Richards. They’re all doing bits in England. You were my choice, and he sent for you!â€�
“How about the Hatton Gardens affair influencing him?�
“It did, in a way,â€� admitted the girl as she narrowed her eyes. “But the main thing was that he had sent—somebody who failed. That somebody came back and recommended you. It’s a hard safe to crack. It’s well watched. Besides, Sir Richard wanted it done without trace.â€�
Fay felt more at ease as he motioned toward the divan with his left hand. “You seem to know a lot about this, Saidee. Were you the King’s Courier? Do I get a little silver greyhound from you?�
She hesitated and then sat down. Her hands folded in her lap. The jewels glittered and flashed the white fire from the electric globes. Her eyes widened. An elusive smile lurked in their corners as she turned to him.
“Of course not!� she said archly. “Do you think I could open a big safe like you can? You foolish boy!�
“I’ve phoned Sir Richard my house might be burglarized and report that the thief stole a silver greyhound and some clothes. That’s only an alibi for Scotland Yard in case of international complications. You know they might happen.�