"

"There's some good in even the devil, I suppose, if one but knows how to
reach it and stir it up," Sir Horace read. "I have lived a life of crime
from my very boyhood because I couldn't help it, because it appealed to
me, because I glory in risks and revel in dangers. I never knew where it
would lead me--I never thought, never cared--but I looked into the
gateway of heaven last night, and I can't go down the path to hell any
longer. Here is an even half of Miss Wyvern's jewels. If you and her
father would have me hand over the other half to you, and would have
'The Vanishing Cracksman' disappear forever, and a useless life
converted into a useful one, you have only to say so to make it an
accomplished thing. All I ask in return is your word of honour (to be
given to me by signal) that you will send for Sir Horace Wyvern to be at
your office at eleven o'clock to-night, and that you and he will grant
me a private interview unknown to any other living being. A red and
green lantern hung over the doorway leading to your office will be the
signal that you agree, and a violet light in your window will be the
pledge of Sir Horace Wyvern. When these two signals, these two pledges,
are given, I shall come in and hand over the remainder of the jewels,
and you will have looked for the first time in your life upon the real
face of 'The Man Who Calls Himself Hamilton Cleek.'"

"God bless my soul! What an amazing creature--what an astounding
request!" exclaimed Sir Horace, as he laid the letter down. "Willing to
give up L20,000 worth of jewels for the mere sake of a private
interview! What on earth can be his object? And why should he include
me?"

"I don't know," said Narkom in reply. "It's worth something, at all
events, to be rid of 'The Vanishing Cracksman' for good and all; and he
says that it rests with us to do that. It's close to eleven now. Shall
we give him the pledge he asks, Sir Horace? My signal is already hung
out; shall we agree to the conditions and give him yours?"

"Yes, yes, by all means," Sir Horace made answer. And lighting the
violet lamp, Narkom flicked open the pinned curtains and set it in the
window.

For ten minutes nothing came of it, and the two men, talking in whispers
while they waited, began to grow nervous. Then somewhere in the distance
a clock started striking eleven, and without so much as a warning sound,
the door flashed open, flashed shut again, a voice that was undeniably
the voice of