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"Probably they're both in bed; it's quite safe to make our examination," said the stranger. "Yes, I s'pose it is. But look to be ready to douse your glim. Boomery's a nailer at turning up unexpected." The Sergeant seemed rather nervous. Mr. Bennett was not. It was remarkable that, as the light of the torch beamed out, the faint sound of footfalls on the road behind died away.
The stranger showed the edge of a roll of notes, protruding it from his breast-pocket. The Sergeant nodded, he understood that part. But there was much that he did not understand. "It fair beats me what the blazes they're doing it for," he broke out. "Whose money would it be?" "The old blighter's, o' course. Boomery's stony, except for his screw."
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