“I knew it, my dear Blunt; it was what I expected of your friendship. But I must give you his direction. Have you all necessary instructions?”
“You have not told me what I am to seize on execution?”
“Very true, an important omission. You must know that this Ford, an estimable man, by the way, has taken a fancy to invent a flying machine, and to that end has collected an odd jumble of machinery. This is what I wish you to seize. Here is the address.”
“And where am I to bring it?”
“You may as well bring it here.”
“How unfortunate that you cannot complete the invention,” said Blunt, dryly. “If it is just as convenient I shouldn’t mind receiving the pay in advance; not,” he continued, with a pointed imitation of his companion’s manner,—“not that I doubt in the least your high-souled integrity, my dear Sharp, but simply because, just at present, singularly enough, I happen to be out of cash.”
“I shall be most happy to discharge your claim forthwith,” said Sharp, rather ostentatiously displaying a roll of bills, and placing a five in the hands of his agent.
Blunt examined the bill with some minuteness, a sudden suspicion having entered his mind as to its genuineness. Satisfied on this point, he slipped it into his vest pocket, saying, “All right, you shall hear from me in the course of the day.”
An hour afterwards a loud authoritative knock aroused Robert Ford, who, it is needless to say, was employed after his usual fashion.
“Come in!”