“Silence!” said Long John.
There was a heavy oak chair at one end of the room. Piper now approached it, seated himself, and looked down the long room. His face was even thinner and more cadaverous than usual, his eyes more luminous, his lips firmer and more cruel. Scrivener watched him in silence; then he went up the room and asked him a question.
“What do you want done,” he said, “with the plate and jewels which we have just taken from Rowton Heights?”
“They belong to Silver, and he must have them back again,” answered Long John with a weary sigh. “That plant on public credulity was the finest stroke of business we have done for a long time. We crown all when we not only punish and completely gull the public, but also take the desire of his eyes from Rowton.”
“Aye, but that, to my way of thinking, was the step too far,” muttered Scrivener under his breath.
“What are you saying, Scrivener? Speak out! I allow no mutterings here.”
“I am saying this,” answered Scrivener; “we put ourselves into danger when we aroused the indignation of a man like Rowton. You may push your authority too far, Long John. I have spoken, now; I won’t say another word.”
“You had better not. Now about the plate and jewels. You can keep them at your place in Cheapside, Scrivener, for a bit, can’t you?”
“I can, Piper, but to be frank with you, I don’t want them to remain there. They might implicate me.”
“Not a bit of it. The best plan would be to convert them into money, which you can easily do. You have crucibles, and can melt down the plate. The jewels can be taken from their settings, and one of our men can go over to Holland with a part of them in the course of the next fortnight. Rowton would as lief have a good large sum of money as the goods back again. In fact, he cannot have them back; it might arouse suspicion.”