"I am hemmed in on all sides," groaned Stevens, "oh, why—?" "You will want;£ioo. I have promised Williams £$o, and I have also promised that no suspicion shall ever approach him. I have not your unblemished character, but I am a man of my word." "You did! Why I thought—" "Yes. You thought that all risk was to be shunted on to Williams. That is just the kind of thought which would come naturally to you." "How will you prevent it?" "That is my business. You will kindly now go to Graham, the money-lender in Essex Street. He will let a respectable bank cashier like you have £100 without any trouble, and he won't charge you more than sixty per cent. When you have the money, I may perhaps give you a few more details. You may not trust me, but you cannot rise to the supreme mistrust which I have for you. Now go." It was twenty minutes to four on Friday afternoon. Stevens stood at the window of his own sitting room looking into Wells Street. He was instructed to give instant warning of the approach of the railway van. As a watchman he was indifferent, lacking concentration. Wallis moved about his preparations, quiet, determined, a man who knew that haste eats up valuable seconds. On the floor stood a small open case filled with large, flat leaden bars. The protecting bands of hoop iron had been bent back and the cover taken off. The writer in the Economist has already described both case and contents in ample detail. Wallis was the designer and constructor. Near the case was a large spring balance. On the table, conveniently arranged, were plaster of paris, water, a large bowl, putty, linseed oil, sealing-wax, a hammer and nails, a chisel, a knife, and a watch. A small gascooking stove supplied by a long flexible tube had been placed on the table; it was
burning. Wallis looked round, thinking hard. " All is ready," he said. A strange cry came from the window. Instantly Wallis picked up a great coarse sack, and looked around again, " Stand by the balance," he said sharply. There was a rattle of wheels outside, and Wallis was gone. The seconds ticked away, ten, twenty, thirty, and he came heavily back with the great sack slung over his shoulder. In a moment a second case stood by the first; closed, nailed down, and on the edge of the cover the Bank of Eng land's broad, red seal! Stevens staggered back shivering, the awful reality of what had been done, striking him like a blow. Wallis stooped and with a powerful effort swung the stolen case to the tray of the balance. "Read the weight," he cried, "and make no mistake." He dragged his own cleverly de signed case near and temporarily adjusted the cover. "A hundred and twenty-nine and a quar ter," murmured Stevens. "Off it comes. Now read again." He heaved up the load of lead. "A hundred and thirty and a half." Wallis snatched at the chisel and cut long curls from the uppermost bar. " Now!" "A hundred and twenty-nine." Wallis threw back into the case a small piece of lead, then another. " Make it about an ounce less than the gold," he said. " We must allow for the nails and the wax." A moment later came the quick beat of the hammer, as Wallis drove the long nails through the cover and fastened down the bands of hoop iron. The watch on the table ticked on, two and a half minutes had passed. Now came the most delicate and difficult part of the scheme which had been so ex haustively planned. The false case resem bled the true one in every respect except that it had no seal, and without this was use less.
