“I certainly refuse to be your tool!” I cried furiously.
“You have thrown in your lot with me as one who ventures constantly in big things just as any man who operates on the Stock Exchange. It is good sport. You, George, are a sportsman, as I am. And from one sport we both derive a good deal of fun.”
“And the victim of our fun, as you term it, is to be old Mr. Lloyd!” I remarked, looking him straight in his face.
But he only laughed, and said:
“Don’t be a fool. You are a most excellent fellow, Hargreave, except when you get these little fits of squeamishness.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to roundly refuse to have anything further to do with him and leave the house, but I knew, alas! that now I had stolen the famous ruby in Paris he would have no compunction in giving me over to the police.
And if I, in turn, gave information against him, what could I really prove? Practically nothing! Rayne was always clever enough to preserve himself from any possibility of suspicion. It was that fact which marked him as the most amazing and ingenious crook.
So I was forced to remain silent, and a few minutes later left the room.
On the following Friday Mr. Lloyd left us. Rayne bade him a regretful farewell, after making him promise to return to us for a fortnight when he got back from Spain.
“Probably my secretary, Hargreave, will have to go to Madrid upon business for me. I have some interest in a tramway company at Salamanca. So you may possibly meet.”