“I did not think of that,” said Mr. Braithwait, simply. “My life has been threatened so often—you know I am a railroad man—that I give little thought to the risk of an undertaking. Professionals, I suppose?”
He looked at Montgomery, who nodded nonchalantly and lighted a cigarette.
Mr. Braithwait coughed.
“I wish you wouldn’t,” he said, deprecatingly. “Apart from the looks, I can’t bear cigarette-smoke. There’s a box of very fine Conchas on the sideboard. Thank you”—to Graham—“if you will join me?—thank you again.”
Graham laughed with genuine enjoyment, yet without vulgarity.
“I like you,” he said, frankly, “and I am sorry that, in the line of business——” He waved his cigar at the bag.
“EXCELLENT CLARET,” SAID HARRY.
“Of course, yes, of course, I know that can’t be helped,” said Mr. Braithwait, smoking away easily, “and that’s another reason why I’m glad I came. I suppose you have in that bag some trinkets belonging to my wife and daughters that have a special value as mementos. I hear that you gentlemen are frequently forced to sell your plunder at a simply ruinous sacrifice, and it occurred to me that if we could come to some arrangement—you understand?”