“When we’re obliged, not before!” Kelson said.  “Or rather, you do as you like—­and I’ll do the same.”

“Well, I’m not going to commit suicide anyhow,” Curtis sneered.  “We haven’t the money to buy poison—­and I’ve no mind to drown myself or cut my throat—­they’re too painful!  If we don’t go on doing what we’ve done to-night, what are we going to do?”

“Trust to luck,” Kelson sighed.

“All right—­you trust to luck—­but I won’t trust any more in Providence, and that’s a fact,” Curtis retorted.  “We’ve been done enough.  Now I’m for doing other people.  Good-night.”

He tumbled into the makeshift bed as he spoke; and in a few minutes, worn out after the unwonted exertions of the evening, both men were fast asleep.

They were at breakfast next morning—­real dejeuner a la carte—­sausages, bread, water—­and they were doing ample justice to it, when some one rapped at the door.  For a few seconds there was silence.  Their hearts stood still.  Had they been followed, after all?  Was it the police?  Some one spoke—­and they breathed again.  It was Hamar.

“This looks like starving, I must say!” Hamar exclaimed, as he sniffed his way into the room and sat on the bed.  “Why, from what you fellows told me last night I thought you were cleared out.  And here you are, stuffing like roosters!  You look a bit surprised to see me, but you’ll look more surprised, I reckon, when I tell you what brings me here.  You remember that book?”

Kelson and Curtis nodded.

“Well,” Hamar went on.  “I read it after you left last night, and I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s something in it that may be of use to us.”

“Us!” Curtis ejaculated.

“Yes!  Us!” Hamar mimicked.  “It contains full particulars of how we can get in touch with certain Occult Powers—­that can give us money or anything else we want!”

“Rot, of course!” Curtis said.

“You say that now.  But, listen to me,” Hamar replied.  “Since I’ve read that book, I believe there’s a lot more in Occultism than people imagine.  You may recollect the name of the author of the book—­Thomas Maitland?  Well! to begin with, he impresses me as being truthful; and he not only believed in Magic but he practised it.  If he hadn’t gone into details I shouldn’t think anything of it, but he’s so darned thorough, and tells you exactly what you’ve got to do to get in touch with the Occult Powers and to practise sorcery.  He learned it all from that old MS. he found, written by an Atlantean; and the Atlanteans, he says, were adepts in every form of Occultism.  I tell you, this chap himself scoffed at it at first; and it was more out of curiosity, he says, than because he was convinced, that he began to experiment.  He afterwards came to the conclusion that the Atlanteans were no fools.  What they had written about the Occult was absolutely correct—­there was another world, and it was possible to get in touch with it.  Now, if Thomas Maitland was able to practise sorcery, why can’t we?  There was a gap of close on twenty thousand years between his time and that of Atlantis, and there’s not much more than two hundred years between his day and ours.  But, of course, if you’re going to pooh-pooh the whole thing I won’t trouble to tell you any more!”