Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 27, No. 2, September 24, 1927

He walked across to a sideboard and helped himself to whisky and soda and a cigar. He carried the pistols with him, dropping them into his pocket. Kitty sat still. Bordington asked a question which astonished her still more.

Chapter V A Compact

“Would you like to earn fifty thousand pounds?”

“Earn — what?” she asked.

“Fifty thousand pounds.”

“Are you talking sense?” She inclined toward coldness.

“Absolutely.” His voice told her more than the word. He was terribly in earnest. “I’ve got some work for you to do. If you care to do it — and if you do it successfully — you can have your freedom and fifty thousand pounds.”

She smiled. Despite his intense agitation, he was able to note that the smile was deliciously sweet and enticing.

“It’s an awful lot of money. You’ve awakened my flagging interest in your conversation. What have I got to do?”

“Commit another burglary,” said Bordington calmly.

Her brows knit. “I think you’re mistaken in me. I’m not to be hired.”

“I don’t wish to hire you,” said Bordington smoothly. “I wish to take you — for one night only — into partnership with me on an affair which, unfortunately, I can’t altogether explain to you, but which is of tremendous importance, not only to me, but to the world at large.”

Her forehead was clear once more. She smiled again. “I begin to feel very important. You’re a government man, aren’t you? Is it all about spies, and boxes at the opera, and beautiful women and Russian grand dukes?”

He laughed too. “No. Unfortunately, the usual concomitants have been left out. It’s to do with a very dangerous man with a very commonplace name. It touches on large sums of money, but little else. And the stage is one of London’s biggest hotels.”

“Which?” she asked quickly.

He hesitated a moment, then: “The Magnificent.”

“Ah!” The exclamation was very low. After a pause, she added indifferently: “It’s a fine place. I’ve stayed there often. Look here — you can’t expect me to accept this offer of yours without hearing it.

“I’ll admit that you know nothing about me except what’s pretty bad; but if you wish to go any further with this matter you’ll have to accept my word on one point. You must tell me your plan, and as much of the circumstances as you feel necessary, and you must accept my word that if I turn the whole thing down I shall not betray your confidence.

“If I may be permitted for one moment to pick up my little tin trumpet and blow it right heartily, I would point out to you that I’ve kept faith with the... er... person who foolishly allowed me to get a sight of the interior of your house; so if that’s any indication of my feelings on such points of honor, you may consider yourself fairly safe.”

Bordington was silent for quite a long time. She endured his scrutiny carelessly, but with reassurance in her eyes. At last he said: “I think I can trust you in that. Anyhow” — with a short laugh — “it’s rather absurd to worry about it. Because if you accept, I’ve to trust you far more. I’ll tell you all I think necessary, and you can judge for yourself.”

“Thanks,” she said; and there was an acknowledgment of compliment in her tone which drew a quick look from him and settled what slight fears of her probity he might have entertained.

“To begin with,” said Bordington, “I want to emphasize that there is a considerable element of danger in the affair.” He paused. “That is, perhaps, hardly emphatic enough. It’s being in the service which brings one to these guarded phrases. But understand — if you accept my offer, you pit yourself against a deadly dangerous man.

“Within the past twenty-four hours he has acknowledged himself guilty of a particularly dastardly murder. Heaven alone knows what other sins lie to his account. He values human life as nothing, and he is also quick, cunning, and possessed of immense courage.”

Kitty said slowly: “I think I will have a cigarette, after all. Thanks very much. Who is this man?” She looked serious. Bordington’s words had evidently impressed her.

Bordington considered his reply before giving it, and decided that he might as well tell everything not actually relevant to the treaty.

“You are — a thief,” he said, hesitating over the accusatory title.

She smiled. “Don’t spare me. Well?”

“You will therefore have heard, among your friends, of the Fellowship of Strangers.”

He saw a light flash and die in her eyes. It was confirmation of all that he had said regarding William Smith. He realized, in fact, that he need never have described Smith, but have merely stated who he was. Evidently the fellowship had a particular notoriety in the underworld.

“Is — your pal — one of them?” asked Kitty.

“He is the chief of the fellowship,” said Bordington.

He saw her lips purse in a silent whistle. She kept her eyes on his face. “You haven’t said enough,” she observed. “Your description of him is watered down. The chief of the fellowship, eh? My word! That man’s got a reputation which makes the most hardened crooks in London shudder. Who is he?”