“He could afford to make easy terms—­under the circumstances.

“I reflected awhile and at length said, ’Perhaps you are right.  Some of the things are large and gold is heavy—­we should leave the silver.  It would take two to carry it all.  Yes, you shall come with me and bring the necessary tools.  When shall we do it?  Any night will do for me.’

“He reflected, with an air of slight embarrassment, and then asked: 

“‘Do you open your shop on Sunday?’

“The question took a load off my mind.  I had been speculating on what plan of action he would adopt.  Now I knew.  And his plan would suit me to a nicety.

“‘No,’ I said, ‘I never open on Sunday.’

“‘Then,’ said he, ’we will do the job on Saturday night or Sunday morning.  That will give us a quiet day to break up the stuff.’

“’Yes.  That will be a good arrangement.  Will you come here on Saturday night and start with me?’

“‘No, no!’ he replied.  ’That would never do.  We must not be seen together.  Give me a rendezvous.  We will meet near the place.’

“Quite so!  It would never do for us to be seen together in Whitechapel where we were both known.  The fact might be mentioned at the inquest.  It would be most inconvenient for Piragoff.

“‘And, look you,’ he continued; ’wear a top-hat and good clothes; if you have an evening suit, put it on.  And bring a new Gladstone bag with some clothes in it.  Where will you meet me?’

“I mentioned Upper Bedford Place and suggested half-past twelve, to which he agreed; and, after sending me out to see that the coast was clear, he took his leave, twisting his waxed mustache as he went out.

“I was, on the whole, very well pleased with the arrangement.  Particularly pleased was I with Piragoff’s transparent plan for disposing of me.  For, now that it really came to action, I found myself shying somewhat at the office of executioner; though I meant to do my duty all the same.  But the fact that this man was already arranging coolly to murder me made my task less unpalatable.  The British sporting instinct is incurable.

“Piragoff’s scheme was perfectly simple.  We should go together to the house, we should bring away the spoil—­I carrying half—­convey it to my premises in Saul Street early on Sunday morning.  Then we should break up the ‘stuff,’ and when our labors were concluded, and I was of no further use, he would knock me on the head.  The quiet back gate would enable him to carry away the booty in instalments to his lodgings.  Then he would lock the gate and vanish.  In a few days the police would break into my house and find my body; and Mr. Piragoff, in his hotel at, say Amsterdam, would read an account of the inquest.  It was delightfully simple and effective, but it failed to take into account the player on the opposite side of the board.