"Why, they do it well," agreed Allerdyke, finishing the sentence. "Aye, that's true enough. All right—I'll speak to Gaffney, when I go back. And look here—as you're so well known to this woman, Miss Slade or Mrs. Marlow, whichever her name is, you'd better not show up at the Waldorf at any time in my company, eh?"
"Of course," said Appleyard. "You trust me for that! What we've got to do must be done as secretly as possible."
Allerdyke rose to go, but turned before he reached the door.
"There's one thing I'm uneasy about," he said. "If—I say if, of course—if these folks—I mean the lot that's behind this woman, for I can't believe that she's worked it all herself—have got those jewels, won't they want to clear out with them? Isn't delay dangerous?"
"Not such delay as I'm thinking of," answered Appleyard firmly. "She's cute enough, this lady, and if she made herself scarce just now, she'd know very well that it would excite suspicion. Don't let's spoil things by being too previous. We've got a pretty good watch on her, you know. I should know very quickly if she cleared out of the Pompadour; you'd know if she didn't turn up at Fullaway's. Wait a bit, Mr. Allerdyke; it's the best policy. You'll come here to-morrow?"
"Eleven o'clock in the morning," replied Allerdyke. "I'll fix it with
Gaffney to-night."
He went back to the Waldorf, summoned Gaffney to his private room, and sent him to arrange matters with his brother. Gaffney accepted the commission with alacrity; his brother, he said, was just then out of a job, having lost a clerkship through the sudden bankruptcy of his employers; such a bit of business as that which Mr. Appleyard had entrusted to him was so much meat and drink to one of his tastes—in more ways than one.
"It's the sort of thing he likes, sir," remarked Gaffney, confidentially. "He's always been a great hand at reading these detective tales, and to set him to watch anybody is like offering chickens to a nigger—he fair revels in it!"
"Well, there's plenty for him to revel in," observed Allerdyke grimly.
Plenty! he said to himself with a cynical laugh when Gaffney had left him—aye, plenty, and to spare. He spent the whole of that evening alone, turning every detail over in his own mind; he was still thinking, and speculating, and putting two and two together when he went to bed at eleven o'clock. And just as he was about to switch off his light a waiter knocked on his door.