Thus the date of the attack was settled and, if only it had been adhered to, things might have fallen out differently between Doctor Mary and Mr. Beaumaroy.  Events would probably have relieved Mary from the necessity of presenting her ultimatum, and she might never have heard that illuminating word “Morocco.”  But big Neddy the Shover—­as his intimate friends were wont to call him—­was a man of pleasure as well as of business; he was not a bloke in an office; he liked an ample Christmas vacation and was now taking one with a party of friends at Brighton—­all tip-toppers who did the thing in style and spent their money (which was not their money) lavishly.  From the attraction of this company—­not composed of gentlemen only—­Neddy refused to be separated.  Mr. Bennett, who was on thorns at the delay, could take it or leave it at that; in any case the job was, in Neddy’s opinion (which he expressed with that massive but good-humored scorn which is an appanage of very large men), a leap in the dark, a pig in a poke, blind hookey; for who really knew how much of the stuff the old blighter and his pal had contrived to shift down to the Cottage in the old brown bag.  Sometimes it looked light, sometimes it looked heavy; sometimes perhaps it was full of bricks!

In this mood Neddy had to be humored, even though gentlemanly Mr. Bennett sat on thorns.  The Sergeant repined less at the delay; he liked the pickings which the job brought him much better than the job itself, standing in wholesome dread of Beaumaroy.  It was rather with resignation than with joy that he received from Mr. Bennett the news that Neddy had at last named the day that would suit his High Mightiness—­Tuesday the 7th of January it was, and, as it chanced, the very day before Beaumaroy was to start for Morocco!  More accurately, the attack would be delivered on the actual day of his departure—­if he went.  For it was timed for one o’clock in the morning, an hour at which the road across the heath might reasonably be expected to be clear of traffic.  This was an especially important point, in view of the fact that the window of the Tower faced towards the road and was but four or five yards distant from it.

After a jovial dinner—­rather too jovial in Mr. Bennett’s opinion, but that was Neddy’s only fault, he would mix pleasure with business—­the two set out in an Overland car.  Mr. Bennett—­whom, by the way, his big friend Neddy called “Mike,” and not “Percy,” as might have been expected—­assumed his sandy wig and red mustache as soon as they were well started; Neddy scorned disguise for the moment, but he had a mask in his pocket.  He also had a very nasty little club in the same pocket, whereas Mr. Bennett carried no weapon of offense—­merely the tools of his trade, at which he was singularly expert.  The friends had worked together before; though Neddy reviled Mike for a coward, and Mike averred with curses, that Neddy would bring them both to the gallows some day, yet they worked well together and had a respect for one another, each allowing for the other’s idiosyncrasies.  The true spirit of partnership!  On it alone can lasting and honorable success be built.