“But consider the number of the tables, to say nothing of the reserve in the vaults, and the money lying about already staked!”
The old boy looked puzzled, but nodded his head politely all the same. “That’s true,” he said, vaguely.
“The place is not in any sense guarded, as no doubt you remember.”
“No, I don’t know that I ever saw a soldier about, except one or two, very bored, on sentry go, up at Monaco. But what has that to do with it?”
“Why, half a dozen resolute men with revolvers could clear the whole place out in five minutes,” I murmured, seductively. “The steam-yacht lies in the harbor, we collect the money, or as much of it as half a dozen of us can carry away, and, once on board the lugger—”
Fanshawe pushed his chair back and stared at me.
“—We go full-steam ahead to one of the Greek islands, divide the swag, scuttle the steamer, make our way to the Piræus, inspect the Acropolis, and come home, viâ Corfu, as Cook’s tourists. Or go to the Holy Land, eh, by way of completely averting suspicion?” And I winked and nudged him, nearly falling over in my effort to get at his frail old ribs.
“My dear friend!” gasped the startled Fanshawe; “why propose such an elaborate pleasantry? It’s like school-boy’s talk in a dormitory.”
“I never felt further from my school-days in my life,” I answered with determination. “The affair is perfectly easy—easier than you think. All it wants is a little resolution, and the money’s ours.”
“But it’s simple robbery.”