"No chance," said the voice. "As a matter of fact, I was on the point of writing out a similar one myself, when I saw yours and guessed I'd let you do the work."
"Who are you?" Bryce demanded with a trace of sharpness in his voice.
The man at the other end of the wire laughed cheerfully. "Never you mind," he said. "You'll know soon enough, as soon as you've landed Jack Bradby's plunder. Now, I want to put up a sporting proposition to you. We'll retire gracefully, if you'll split fifty-fifty."
"We!" Bryce repeated. "So there's more than one of you?"
"There's lots of us, and we've got the whip hand of you because, you see, you don't know who we are. We know you; we've been following a couple of jumps behind you right through all the records, and we guess it's high time we cashed in."
"I'll see you in Hell first!" said Bryce angrily.
"Probably you will," said the voice with a chuckle. "If you won't treat with us, we'll get what we want in other ways."
"No, by thunder, you won't!" said Bryce shortly. "I'll warn you that I'll shoot on sight."
"So do we," the other laughed. "I hope, for your sake, you recognise us first, though I don't think it likely."
"If I catch you monkeying around I'll fill you so full of holes that your own mother won't know you from a colander," Bryce threatened; but the voice laughed irritatingly, and when Bryce tried to get a reply he found that the other had rung off.