"Sure. And that's where I come in!" cried Julias, bringing his fist down on the table with a bang. "You can count on me, if necessary, for one million dollars. Yes, sir, one million dollars!"
Sir James sat down and subjected Julius to a long scrutiny.
"Mr. Hersheimmer," he said at last, "that is a very large sum."
"I guess it'll have to be. These aren't the kind of folk to offer sixpence to."
"At the present rate of exchange it amounts to considerably over two hundred and fifty thousand pounds."
"That's so. Maybe you think I'm talking through my hat, but I can deliver the goods all right, with enough over to spare for your fee."
Sir James flushed slightly.
"There is no question of a fee, Mr. Hersheimmer. I am not a private detective."
"Sorry. I guess I was just a mite hasty, but I've been feeling bad about this money question. I wanted to offer a big reward for news of Jane some days ago, but your crusted institution of Scotland Yard advised me against it. Said it was undesirable."
"They were probably right," said Sir James dryly.
"But it's all O.K. about Julius," put in Tuppence. "He's not pulling your leg. He's got simply pots of money."
"The old man piled it up in style," explained Julius. "Now, let's get down to it. What's your idea?"
Sir James considered for a moment or two.
