“Yes,” Cecil snapped, angrily. “That’ll perhaps teach him a lesson.”
Una Rainhill had been thinking while this last part of the conversation had been going on.
“There’s one thing you haven’t provided against, Foxy,” she pointed out. “Suppose you manage everything as you’ve arranged. Even if you get clear away from the museum, there’s almost certain to be someone in the passage outside who’ll see you rush out. And then the game would be up. It’s not enough to dowse the light in the museum. You’ll need to put all the house lights out as well.”
“That’s sound,” Foxy agreed at once. “That means that you’ll need to pull out the main switch instead of just the fuse of the museum. It’s an even easier job, with no chance of a mistake in it. And what a spree it’ll be. The whole shop will be buzzing like an overturned hive! It’ll be great sport. And, of course, there’ll be such a wild confusion before they get the lights on again, that we’ll come out of it absolutely OK. All we have to do is to saunter quietly out of the museum and help to restore order among the rabble in the dark. By the time the lights go on again, we’ll be anywhere it suits us to be. That’s a masterstroke of yours, Una. Couldn’t be bettered.”
Cecil glanced at his wristwatch.
“Time’s getting on, Foxy. We’ve sketched the general idea, but we must get this thing down to dots now. Everything will depend on synchronizing things exactly. We can’t afford to leave affairs to the last moment; for we mustn’t be seen together, you know, tomorrow night.”
Foxy nodded assent and pulled out a notebook.
“Here it is, then,” he declared. “I’ll make three copies—one for each of us—and we can burn ’em once we’ve memorized ’em later on. Now, first of all, we can’t start our game too early. That’d be a mistake. Let ’em all get well mixed up in dancing and so forth, before we begin operations.”
Cecil and Una assented to this at once.
“Midnight’s the limit at the other end,” Foxy pointed out. “Can’t afford to wait for the unmasking, for then the keeper would know us and remember we’d been in the museum when the thing happened.”
His fellow-conspirators made no objection.
“In between those limits, I think this would be about right,” Foxy proposed. “First of all, we set our three watches to the same time. Better do it now, for fear of forgetting.”
When this had been done, he continued:
“At 11:40 Una goes to the main switch. You’ll have to show her where it is, Cecil, either tonight or tomorrow morning. At 11:40, also, Cecil and I wander independently into the museum. I remember quite well where the medallions are kept.”
“Wait a moment,” interrupted Cecil. “Just remember that the three real medallions and your three electrotypes are lying side by side in the glass case. The real medallions are in the top row; your electros are the bottom row.”
Foxy made a note of this and then went on:
“Your business, Cecil, will be to mark down the keeper. Get so near him that you can jump on him for certain the very instant the lights go out. Make sure you can get his hands or his wrists at the first grab. You mustn’t fumble it or you’ll shipwreck the whole caboodle.”
“I’ll manage it all right,” Cecil assured him.
“In the meantime I’ll be stooping over the medallion case, looking at the stuff, with something in my hand to break the glass. I’ll have a thick glove, so as not to get cut with the edges when I put my hand in.”
“That’s sound,” said Cecil, “I hadn’t thought of the splinters.”
“Blood would give us away at once,” Foxy pointed out. “Now comes the real business. At a quarter to twelve precisely Una pulls out the switch. As soon as the light goes, Cecil jumps on the keeper while I smash the glass of the case and grab the top row of the medallions. After that, we both cut for the door and mingle with the mob. And remember, not a word said during the whole affair. Our voices would give us away to the keeper.”
He scribbled two extra copies of his timetable and handed one of these to each of the other conspirators.
“Now, for my sake, don’t botch this business,” he added. “I’ve played a joke or two in my time, but this is the best I’ve ever done, and I don’t want it spoiled by inattention to details. It’ll be worth all the trouble to see Maurice’s face when he finds what’s happened.”
III
The Theft at the Masked Ball
“I’m thankful I took my wings off,” said Ariel, leaning back in her chair with a soft sigh of satisfaction. “You’ve no notion how much you long to sit down when you know you daren’t do it for fear of crushing the frames of these things. It’s not tiredness; it’s simply tantalization.”
She turned her eyes inquisitively on the bearded figure of her partner.
“I wonder who you’re supposed to be?” she mused. “You ought to have a ticket, with a costume like that. I can’t guess who you imagine you are—or who you really are, for that matter.”
Her companion showed no desire to enlighten her on the last point.
“ ‘My quaint Ariel, hark in thine ear,’ ” he quoted, but she failed to recognize the tones of his voice.
“Oh, now I see! We did The Tempest one year at school. So you’re Prospero, are you? Well, don’t let’s begin by any misunderstandings. If you think you’re entitled to act your part by ordering me about, you’re far mistaken. My trade union positively refuses to permit any overtime.”
“I’ve left my book and staff in the cloakroom,” Prospero confessed, laughingly, “otherwise, malignant spirit …”
“ ‘That’s my noble master!’ ” quoted Ariel, ironically. “Prospero
