Well, it took about as long to settle that business as you'd expect.
The doctor and Mabel protested, but it's easier to give away a fortune
that is still in prospect than a small sum that is really tangible--I
mean between folk who stand on their own feet. It doesn't seem to
deprive the giver of much, or to strain the pride of the recipient
unduly.

I've been given shares in unproven El Doradoes times out of number, and
could paper the wall of, say, a good-sized bathroom with the stock
certificates--may do it some day if I ever settle down. But the only
gift of that sort that I ever knew to pay dividends, except to the
printer of the gilt-edged scrip, is Jeremy's gold mine; and you'll look
in vain for any mention of that in the stock exchange lists. The time
to get in on that good thing was that night by Mabel Ticknor's teapot in
Jerusalem.

It was nearly midnight before we had everything settled, and there was
still a lot to do before we could catch the morning train. One thing
that Grim did was to take gum and paper and contrive an envelope that
looked in the dark sufficiently like the alleged Feisul letter; and he
carried that in his hand as he took to the street, with Narayan Singh
following among the shadows within hail. Jeremy and I kept Narayan
Singh in sight, for it was possible that Yussuf Dakmar had gathered a
gang to waylay whoever might emerge from the house.

But he seemed to have had enough of bungling accomplices that night.
Grim hadn't gone fifty paces, keeping well in the middle of the road,
when a solitary shadow began stalking him, and doing it so cautiously
that though he had to cross the circles of street lamplight now and then
neither Jeremy nor I could have identified him afterward.