"Fungst!"
"So, Brooke" he said, "you thought to do me. But I am not done so easily, my friend."
"How did you get here?"
"That is my secret. There are more ways than one of getting into the Duke of Datchet's house, my friend."
The two men stood staring at each other. Mr. Brooke with clenched fists and a flush upon his face. Mr. Fungst with his crush-hat under his arm, his hands in his overcoat pockets, and an ungenial smile upon his lips. As for the Duchess, she stood staring at them both. The march of events seemed to have deprived her of a little of her breath. When she did speak she addressed herself to Mr. Fungst.
"May I ask, sir, what is the meaning of this intrusion, and who you are?"
"I am Jacob Fungst, that's who I am. If it was not for me he would not have had the stone at all. And when he make a fool of himself and sell it—if it was not for me he would not have known what it was that he had sold. Now, when I have found a market for the stone, he tries to do me, his friend, his very good friend indeed, out of the market I have found. That is why, when he say twenty thousand, I say thirty; and not in the morning, but cash down."
"Fungst, I advise you to be careful."
"I will be careful. Be easy in your mind, I will be careful. It is a thing of which I am very fond—carefulness."
Mr. Brooke touched his friend lightly on the shoulder. "I only seek my share of the spoil."
