"Thanks for the compliment, Freddie; but I should imagine that
something a little more solid than a persuasive way would be
required in a case like this. You said something a while ago
about five hundred pounds?"

"Here it is, old man--in notes. I brought it on purpose. Will you
really take the thing on? Do you think you can work it for five
hundred?"

"I can have a try."

Freddie rose, with an expression approximating to happiness on
his face. Some men have the power of inspiring confidence in some
of their fellows, though they fill others with distrust. Scotland
Yard might look askance at R. Jones, but to Freddie he was all
that was helpful and reliable. He shook R. Jones' hand several
times in his emotion.

"That's absolutely topping of you, old man!" he said. "Then I'll
leave the whole thing to you. Write me the moment you have done
anything, won't you? Good-by, old top, and thanks ever so much!"

The door closed. R. Jones remained where he sat, his fingers
straying luxuriously among the crackling paper. A feeling of
complete happiness warmed R. Jones' bosom. He was uncertain
whether or not his mission would be successful; and to be
truthful he was not letting that worry him much. What he was
certain of was the fact that the heavens had opened unexpectedly
and dropped five hundred pounds into his lap.