'Soup, boss?'
'He doesn't know what soup is,' said Jimmy, despairingly. 'My good
man, I'm afraid you have missed your vocation. You have no business
to be trying to burgle. You don't know the first thing about the
game.'
Spike was regarding the speaker with disquiet over his glass. Till
now, the red-haired one had been very well satisfied with his
methods, but criticism was beginning to sap his nerve. He had heard
tales of masters of his craft who made use of fearsome implements
such as Jimmy had mentioned; burglars who had an airy
acquaintanceship, bordering on insolent familiarity, with the
marvels of science; men to whom the latest inventions were as
familiar as his own jemmy was to himself. Could this be one of that
select band? His host began to take on a new aspect in his eyes.
'Spike,' said Jimmy.
'Huh?'
'Have you a thorough knowledge of chemistry, physics--'
'On your way, boss!'
'--toxicology--'
'Search me!'
'--electricity and microscopy?'
'... Nine, ten. Dat's de finish. I'm down an' out.'
Jimmy shook his head, sadly.
'Give up burglary,' he said. 'It's not in your line. Better try
poultry-farming.'
Spike twiddled his glass, abashed.
'Now, I,' said Jimmy airily, 'am thinking of breaking into a house
to-night.'
'Gee!' exclaimed Spike, his suspicions confirmed at last. 'I t'ought
youse was in de game, boss. Sure, you're de guy dat's onto all de
curves. I t'ought so all along.'
'I should like to hear,' said Jimmy amusedly, as one who draws out
an intelligent child, 'how you would set about burgling one of those
up-town villas. My own work has been on a somewhat larger scale and
on the other side of the Atlantic.'
'De odder side?'
'I have done as much in London, as anywhere else,' said Jimmy. 'A
great town, London, full of opportunities for the fine worker. Did
you hear of the cracking of the New Asiatic Bank in Lombard Street?'
'No, boss,' whispered Spike. 'Was dat you?'
Jimmy laughed.
'The police would like an answer to the same question,' he said,
self-consciously. 'Perhaps, you heard nothing of the disappearance
of the Duchess of Havant's diamonds?'
'Wasdat--?'
'The thief,' said Jimmy, flicking a speck of dust from his coat
sleeve, 'was discovered to have used an oxy-acetylene blow-pipe.'
The rapturous intake of Spike's breath was the only sound that broke
the silence. Through the smoke, his eyes could be seen slowly
