A Prince of Swindlers. Guy Boothby

have been doing since last we met."

      As she spoke she was occupied preparing a huqa for him. When it was ready she fitted a tiny amber mouthpiece to the tube, and presented it to him with a compliment as delicate as her own rose-leaf hands. Then, seating herself on a pile of cushions beside him, she bade him proceed with his narrative.

      "And now," she said, when he had finished, "what is this business that brings you to me?"

      A few moments elapsed before he began his explanation, and during that time he studied her face closely.

      "I have a scheme in my head," he said, laying the huqa stick carefully upon the floor, "that, properly carried out, should make us both rich beyond telling, but to carry it out properly I must have your co-operation."

      She laughed softly, and nodded her head.

      "You mean that you want money," she answered. "Ah, Simon, you always want money."

      "I do want money," he replied without hesitation. "I want it badly. Listen to what I have to say, and then tell me if you can give it to me. You know what year this is in England?"

      She nodded her head. There were few things with which she had not some sort of acquaintance.

      "It will be a time of great rejoicing," he continued. "Half the princes of the earth will be assembled in London. There will be wealth untold there, to be had for the mere gathering in; and who is so well able to gather it as I? I tell you, Liz, I have made up my mind to make the journey and try my luck, and, if you will help me with the money, you shall have it back with such jewels, for interest, as no woman ever wore yet. To begin with, there is the Duchess of Wiltshire's necklace. Ah, your eyes light up; you have heard of it?"

      "I have," she answered, her voice trembling with excitement. "Who has not?"

      "It is the finest thing of its kind in Europe, if not in the world," he went on slowly, as if to allow time for his words to sink in. "It consists of three hundred stones, and is worth, apart from its historic value, at least fifty thousand pounds."

      He saw her hands tighten on the cushions upon which she sat.

      "Fifty thousand pounds! That is five lacs of rupees?"

      "Exactly! Five lacs of rupees, a king's ransom," he answered. "But that is not all. There will be twice as much to be had for the taking when once I get there. Find me the money I want, and those stones shall be your property."

      "How much do you want?"

      "The value of the necklace," he answered. "Fifty thousand pounds."

      "It is a large sum," she said, "and it will be difficult to find."

      He smiled, as if her words were a joke and should be treated as such.

      "The interest will be good," he answered.

      "But are you certain of obtaining it?" she asked.

      "Have I ever failed yet?" he replied.

      "You have done wonderful things, certainly. But this time you are attempting so much."

      "The greater the glory!" he answered. "I have prepared my plans, and I shall not fail. This is going to be the greatest undertaking of my life. If it comes off successfully, I shall retire upon my laurels. Come, for the sake of--well, you know for the sake of what--will you let me have the money? It is not the first time you have done it, and on each occasion you have not only been repaid, but well rewarded into the bargain."

      "When do you want it?"

      "By mid-day to-morrow. It must be paid in to my account at the bank before twelve o'clock. You will have no difficulty in obtaining it I know. Your respectable merchant friends will do it for you if you but hold up your little finger. If they don't feel inclined, then put on the screw and make them."

      She laughed as he paid this tribute to her power. A moment later, however, she was all gravity.

      "And the security?"

      He leant towards her and whispered in her ear.

      "It is well," she replied. "The money shall be found for you to-morrow. Now tell me your plans; I must know all that you intend doing."

      "In the first place," he answered, drawing a little closer to her, and speaking in a lower voice, so that no eavesdropper should hear, "I shall take with me Abdul Khan, Ram Gafur, Jowur Singh and Nur Ali, with others of less note as servants. I shall engage the best house in London, and under the wing of our gracious Viceroy, who has promised me the light of his countenance, will work my way into the highest society. That done, I shall commence operations. No one shall ever suspect!"

      "And when it is finished, and you have accomplished your desires, how will you escape?"

      "That I have not yet arranged. But of this you may be sure, I shall run no risks."

      "And afterwards?"

      He leant a little towards her again, and patted her affectionately upon the hand.

      "Then we shall see what we shall see," he said, "I don't think you will find me ungrateful."

      She shook her pretty head.

      "It is good talk," she cried, "but it means nothing. You always say the same. How am I to know that you will not learn to love one of the white memsahibs when you are so much among them?"

      "Because there is but one Trincomalee Liz," he answered; "and for that reason you need have no fear."

      Her face expressed the doubt with which she received this assertion. As she had said, it was not the first time she had been cajoled into advancing him large sums with the same assurance. He knew this, and, lest she should alter her mind, prepared to change the subject.

      "Besides the others, I must take Hiram Singh and Wajib Baksh. They are in Calcutta, I am told, and I must communicate with them before noon to-morrow. They are the most expert craftsmen in India, and I shall have need of them."

      "I will have them found, and word shall be sent to you."

      "Could I not meet them here?"

      "Nay, it is impossible. I shall not be here myself. I leave for Madras within six hours."

      "Is there, then, trouble toward?"

      She smiled, and spread her hands apart with a gesture that said: "Who knows?"

      He did not question her further, but after a little conversation on the subject of the money, rose to bid her farewell.

      "I do not like this idea," she said, standing before him and looking him in the face. "It is too dangerous. Why should you run such risk? Let us go to Burma. You shall be my vizier."

      "I would wish for nothing better," he said, "were it not that I am resolved to go to England. My mind is set upon it and when I have done, London shall have something to talk about for years to come."

      "If you are determined, I will say no more," she answered; "but when it is over, and you are free, we will talk again."

      "You will not forget about the money?" he asked anxiously.

      She stamped her foot.

      "Money, money, money," she cried. "It is always the money of which you think. But you shall have it, never fear. And now when shall I see you again?"

      "In six months' time at a place of which I will tell you beforehand."

      "It is a long time to wait."

      "There is a necklace worth five lacs to pay you for the waiting."

      "Then I will be patient. Good-bye."

      "Good-bye, little friend," he said. And then, as if he thought he had not said enough, he added: "Think sometimes of Simon Carne."

      She promised, with many pretty speeches, to do so, after which he left the room and went downstairs. As he reached the bottom step