“Have you said anything to Mr. Batchgrew?” Louis asked, trying to adopt a casual tone, and to keep out of his voice the relief and joy which were gradually taking possession of his soul.  The upshot of Julian’s visit was so amazingly different from the apprehension of it that he could have danced in his glee.

“Not I!” Julian answered ferociously.  “The old robber has been writing me, wanting me to put money into some cinema swindle or other.  I gave him a bit of my mind.”

“He was trying the same here,” said Rachel.  The words popped by themselves out of her mouth, and she instantly regretted them.  However, Louis seemed to be unconscious of the implied reproach on a subject presumably still highly delicate.

“But you can tell him, if you’ve a mind,” Julian went on challengingly.

“We shan’t do any such thing,” said Rachel, words again popping by themselves out of her mouth.  But this time she put herself right by adding, “Shall we, Louis?”

“Of course not,” Louis agreed very amiably.

Rachel began to feel sympathetic towards the thief.  She thought:  “How strange to have some one close to me, and talking quite naturally, who has stolen such a lot of money and might be in prison for it—­a convict!” Nevertheless, the thief seemed to be remarkably like ordinary people.

“Oh!” Julian ejaculated.  “Well, here’s the notes.”  He drew a lot of notes from a pocket-book and banged them down on the table.  “Four hundred and fifty.  The identical notes.  Count ’em.”  He glared afresh, and with even increased virulence.

“That’s all right,” said Louis.  “That’s all right.  Besides, we only want half of them.”

Sundry sheets of the confession, which had not previously caught fire, suddenly blazed up with a roar in the grate, and all looked momentarily at the flare.

“You’ve got to have it all!” said Julian, flushing.

“My dear fellow,” Louis repeated, “we shall only take half.  The other half’s yours.”

“As God sees me,” Julian urged, “I’ll never take a penny of that money!  Here—­”

He snatched up all the notes and dashed wrathfully out of the parlour.  Rachel followed quickly.  He went to the back room, where the gas had been left burning high, sprang on to a chair in front of the cupboard, and deposited the notes on the top of the cupboard, in the very place from which he had originally taken them.

“There!” he exclaimed, jumping down from the chair.  The symbolism of the action appeared to tranquillize him.

IV