'I am indeed,' he said.

    'What is the idea?' said the man, in a more official tone.

    'Each of these is a ten pound banknote,' said Anthony.

    The man sat down on a seat beside him.

    'It almost sounds as if you and I were going to get better acquainted,' he said.

    'I admit it. You're an officer from Scotland Yard, aren't you?'

    'I don't know how you guessed it, but you're nearer the truth than you're ever likely to be.'

    'Are there many confidence gangs working in London just now?'

    'There are about four,' said the officer. 'How people get taken in by them I don't know. Is somebody after you?'

    Anthony nodded.

    'Then you're a fellow to keep under observation,' said the detective with amusement.

    'For the Lord's sake, don't,' replied Anthony in alarm. 'Tell me, what is their modus operandi?'

    'Come again?' said the detective as a matter of principle.

    'What is their method of working?'

    'They've only got one method,' said the other, 'and if you've met them you ought to know all about them. They are generally people who have got money to distribute to the poor and needy. Somebody leaves money for that purpose and they are looking for an honest, respectable lad without brains to whom they can hand the money, without fear that he will blue it on champagne and girls.'

    'They are very unoriginal,' smiled Anthony.

    'As unoriginal as greed,' said the other, 'and it is the greed in human nature that they work on. Have they got you for a sucker?'

    Anthony nodded.

    'I am a young man from South Africa with great possessions,' he said, simply. 'This evening I am going to show them five thousand pounds in order to prove my bona fides.'

    The detective glanced at the pocket book.

    'Sic 'em!' he said, preparing to go. 'And if they give you any trouble afterwards, here's my card.'

    At half past seven that night, Anthony kept his appointment. He found the lawyer already waiting for him, reading the evening newspaper, a small glass of absinthe before him.

    'A pernicious drink, Mr Newton,' he said, 'but I find it is very beneficial. I suffer from indigestion. I suppose you haven't seen Mr Frenchan?'

    Anthony shook his head.

    'A strange man, a very trusting man, and how he ever keeps out of scrapes heaven only knows,' said the lawyer in despair. 'He would trust anybody. He would trust a tramp in the street. I hope, Mr Newton, that you are not feeling very sore with me, but a lawyer has to be a little inhuman.'

    'That I understand,' said Anthony heartily, and at that moment Frenchan came in.

    They talked for a while on an item of news which was being advertised on all newspaper bills and placards, and then Mr Frenchan, with a sigh, said: 'Well, let us to business, and get it over.'

    He produced a heavy wallet and took out a wad of notes.

    'What on earth did you bring that for?' asked the lawyer.

    'Because,' said Mr Frenchan emphatically, 'I thought if you could not trust Mr Newton, there was no reason why Mr Newton should trust us. I do trust Mr Newton, I trust him implicitly.'

    'Don't raise your voice,' said the lawyer. 'There is no need to make a disturbance.'

    'And Mr Newton trusts me.'

    'Have you brought the money?' asked the lawyer practically.

    Anthony produced his heavy wallet.

    'What did I tell you?' said Frenchan, for the second time that day. 'A man of substance and a man of honour, Whipplewhite. Will you do me a favour?'

    He leant across the table and spoke earnestly to Anthony.

    'Certainly, Mr Frenchan.'

    Mr Frenchan tossed his wallet into Anthony's lap.

    Take that wallet and go outside for five minutes, and then return,'

    'But why?' asked Anthony, raising his eyebrows.

    'To show that I trust you. And I daresay you would do the same for me?'

    'Most certainly I would,' said Anthony.

    He picked up the wallet.

    'But there is a lot of money here, isn't there? I wish you would count it.'

    'There is no necessity to count it,' said the other, loftily. Nevertheless, he pulled open the flap and took out a wad of notes. He turned over the first batch of notes and Anthony saw that they were each for ten pounds. Beneath were sham 'Bank of Engraving' notes, he guessed, but those on top were genuine enough.

    'I don't like doing it,' he said, as he took the wallet from the other. 'After all, you don't know me.'

    'I think I should accede to Mr Frenchan's rather remarkable request,' said the lawyer gently, and Anthony slipped the case into his pocket, and went slowly from the restaurant. A taxi cab was passing.

    'Don't stop,' he said, as he ran up to the slowing vehicle. 'Drive me to Victoria.'

    As the cab flashed through the darkening streets, he took the wallet and extracted its contents. The twenty top notes were gloriously genuine.

    In the restaurant Mr Whipplewhite and Frenchan waited.

    'A bright kid,' said Mr Frenchan.

    'Ain't they all bright?' said the other contemptuously. 'Ain't they all clever? It is only the clever ones that fall. Hullo!' He looked up with a start to meet the eyes of a soldierly looking man.

    'Hullo, Dan, waiting for a mug?'

    'I don't know what you mean, sergeant,' said Frenchan.