“The devil only knows,” laughed Sir Felix. “He says he did himself. The fellow was hard up and I gave him a hundred francs, but I believed the whole thing to be a huge hoax, until I consulted old Erich and he began to puzzle his brains. Then I saw that there might be something in it. My only fear is that Griffin and his friends may get ahead of us. But you’ve done well, Jim. You always do.”
“I do the dirty work of the firm,” laughed the man addressed, removing his cigar from his lips, “and devilish dirty work it is at times.”
“Well, you can’t complain of the pay. Isn’t it better to live as you are, a gentleman of means, than as I found you five years ago, a ‘crook’ who might be arrested at any moment?”
“I don’t complain at all, my dear fellow. Only—”
“Only what?”
“Well, I really don’t see your object in enticing the girl to Charlie’s rooms. It might be awkward for us.”
Sir Felix laughed, snapping his fingers.
“What? Are you growing afraid?” he asked.
“Not at all, only I can’t see your object.”
“The object is simply to compromise her,” he said grimly. “She’s a confounded pretty girl. I saw her at the theatre with her aunt a week ago, and she was at Lady Ena’s wedding the other day, with her lover, Frank Farquhar. Of that man we must be wary. With his confounded newspapers, he has power,” he added.