must make an end or I shall be giving my doctor more trouble."

With a sigh he pressed one of three white buttons under the ledge of the
table. "You will forgive my handing you over to a servant. Caw will see
you to your car. Farewell, Lancaster; my regards to your wife, my love to
Doris. Farewell, Bullard; yet there are better things even than
diamonds."

The door was opened. A middle-aged man in black, with clean shaven
ascetic face, and hair the colour of rust, and of remarkably wiry bodily
appearance stood at attention.

There was something in Christopher's sad smile that forbade further
words, and the visitors departed. Lancaster's countenance working,
Bullard's a mask.

The door was shut noiselessly. Christopher's hand fell clenched on the
green box. His pallid lips moved.

"Traitors, hypocrites, money maniacs! Verily, they shall have their
reward!" He reopened the box, took out all the five trays, and gazed
awhile at the massed brilliance. And his smile was exceeding grim.




CHAPTER II


Within a few minutes the servant returned.