“The very thing”, remarked Frankl.
So it was agreed. Harris took the bag; they descended to the cellar; then, striking matches, down three marl steps to the subterranean way made for Hogarth; and along it, forty feet, they stumbled bent, Harris gripped by each sleeve.
Then in the Adair Street Board Room they lit a candle, and in the room next it found the safes, the largest of which admitting the bag, Frankl locked its door, took the key; O'Hara then locked the room door, took the key; and at the stair-bottom locked another door, took the key; so that Frankl could not now get at the bag without him, nor he without Frankl, nor Harris without both.
Two then went away, while Harris, sprawling cynically on a solitary chair down in the parlour with straight open legs, awaited the rendezvous at twelve.
He had not, however, sat very long, when the taper at his feet glared on a face of terror at a sound of ghosts in the tomb that the house was, and he started to his feet, prone, snatching his knife—thinking, as always, of the Only Reality, the police. But he had not prowled three ecstatic steps when O'Hara stood before him.
“Oh, damned fool!” he went with infinite contempt and reproach, “to frighten anybody like that! What's it you are after now? Frighten anybody like that....”
“Alfie!”—O'Hara whispered it breathfully as the hoarse sirocco, stepping daintily like the peacock. Tell it not in Gath! If Alfie rammed the knife into the marrow of Frankl's back at the moment when the safe was opened, then Alfie would have, not a third, but a half; and the thing was desirable for this reason: that a half is greater than a third...
Harris saw that: but he seemed reluctant, meditating upon the ground; then walking, hands in pockets.
“Why, boy, he is only an interloper”, said O'Hara: “I meant the money to be divided fairly between you and me. Why should this Jew come in?”
“All right”, said Harris: “I don't mind”.