, and in business matters
especially, he was the despair, not only of his banker, but of his
broker; he was a man who, in professional parlance, "deserved to be
robbed." It is improbable that he had any but the haziest ideas, at
any particular time, respecting the state of his bank balance and
investments. He detested the writing of business letters, and was
always at great pains to avoid anything in the nature of a commercial
rendezvous. He would sign any document which his lawyer or his broker
cared to send him, with simple, unquestioned faith.

His bank he never visited, and his appearance was entirely unfamiliar
to the staff. True, the manager knew him slightly, having had two
interviews with him: one when the account was opened, and the second
when Leroux introduced his solicitor and broker--in order that in the
future he might not be troubled in any way with business affairs.

Mr. Soames perceived more and more clearly that the mild deception
projected was unlikely to be discovered by its victim; and, at the
appointed time, he hastened to the corner of Victoria Street, to his
appointment with Gianapolis. The latter was prompt, for Soames perceived
his radiant smile afar off.

The saloon bar of the Red Lion was affably proposed by Mr. Gianapolis
as a suitable spot to discuss the business. Soames agreed, not without
certain inward qualms; for the proximity of the hostelry to New Scotland
Yard was a disquieting circumstance.

However, since Gianapolis affected to treat their negotiations in
the light of perfectly legitimate business, he put up no protest, and
presently found himself seated in a very cozy corner of the saloon bar,
with a glass of whisky-and-soda on a little table before him, bubbling
in a manner which rendered it an agreeable and refreshing sight in the
eyes of Mr. Soames.

"You know," said Gianapolis, the gaze of his left eye bisecting that
of his right in a most bewildering manner, "they call this 'the 'tec's
tabernacle!'"

"Indeed," said Soames, without enthusiasm; "I suppose some of the
Scotland Yard men do drop in now and then?"

"Beyond doubt, my dear Soames."

Soames responded to his companion's radiant smile with a smile of his
own by no means so pleasant to look upon. Soames had the type of face
which, in repose, might be the face of an honest man; but his smile
would have led to his instant arrest on any racecourse in Europe: it was
the smile of a pick-pocket.

"Now," continued G