"That chap Dirk," he said. "Could you find him for me?"
"Sure."
"Then tell him to meet me at Paddington tomorrow morning 9.50."
"Right."
"And you might lend me that bunch of spring-lock keys."
"Going to have a squint at that guide book?" queried Bolt shrewdly as he turned over the contents of a table drawer in search of the keys.
"Going to have a try," came the answer.
Bolt rippled out a fat, greasy chuckle.
"Pleasure to work with you, Smith," said he. "Yes indeed. Though it's a bit risky putting one over on the Dutchman." He fell into a thick, guttural "S'bad—s'bad pizness. Dese servants wass ver' insubordinate. S'bad. Well, good luck, ole boy."
They shook hands cordially.