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The other tossed it across.

“Pray observe that I trust you,” he said.

“Why not?” said Simon Beaulieu.

He took out the letter, glanced at beginning and end, put it back in its envelope and slid this into a pocket. Then he took out ten packets of notes and laid them upon the table.

“Count them, please,” he said.

The smooth-faced gentleman smiled.

“I always do,” he said, “as a matter of form.”

Each packet contained ten notes—for one hundred pounds apiece.

That this was so The Master proceeded to verify, taking his own time.

Simon stood like a statue.

At length the other looked up.

“Quite right,” he said comfortably. He pointed to a pile of envelopes. “There are the twenty-two copies. Will you take them also? Or shall I burn them now?”

“Burn them, please.”

The Master stepped to the fireplace, set the envelopes in the grate, and lighted a gas jet which was fixed beneath the bars.

The papers began to flame almost at once.

In silence the two men stood, watching them burn.

Presently The Master turned and, picking up his own letter, added that to the pyre.