The Fourth Plague by Edgar Wallace Page A

the matter of receiving these articles which are so precious to us, and which are located with such great pains and with such labour, must be fairly obvious.”
    He looked at his watch.
    â€œNow, I have little time to spare. Let me see what is to be seen.”
    The big man rose and walked heavily across the room. He put his hand under the pillow of a truckle bed which stood in the corner, and pulled out a long, flat box. He brought it to the other, and opened it with a key which hung with a crucifix about his neck.
    It was a curious collection which met the young man’s eyes. The box was almost filled with lockets of every conceivable shape and description. There were lockets of gold and of silver, lockets carved from crystal, lockets so encrusted with jewels that it was impossible to tell what was the subsidiary metal. Some bore a painted miniature, others were brilliant with enamels.
    The young man fingered them with quick and skilful hands. He lifted them one by one from their box, laid them in the palm of his hand, and turned them; and, as he examined, he rejected.
    He finished his labours at last.
    â€œThey are very valuable,” he said, “but not of the value I hoped. We have to search still further. I believe that the locket which is in the possession of this foolish man Morte-Mannery is more likely to be the one we seek than any other. We must lose no time and spare no pains to secure it.”
    He took a flat leather wallet from his inside coat pocket, opened it and removed a sheet of paper. There was a drawing in pencil.
    â€œThis is it,” he said, “if any is.”
    He passed the design to the stout man.
    â€œYou observe those curious arabesques, that cupid, that tiny hoofed devil? That is the master’s own work.”
    He spoke with enthusiasm. For one moment the sinister object of the chase was lost sight of in his artistic appreciation of the design.
    â€œThere are two such lockets in the world.”
    He spoke more quickly now.
    â€œOne we may secure to-night. The other on Friday. We must make some arrangements. If necessary I will go down myself and receive the locket. This drawing,” he pointed to the paper, “almost decides me. We can afford to slacken our efforts elsewhere and concentrate them upon Burboro’. By the way, what money is wanted?”
    â€œA thousand English pounds,” said the stout man, breathlessly.
    The young man laughed.
    â€œIt is absurd to ask for a thousand pounds for something which may be of no value whatever,” he said. “You must promise her—where is she, by the way?”
    â€œShe will be in town to-night, Signor,” said Pietro.
    The young man nodded.
    â€œShe is very faithful and enthusiastic,” he said; “a curious woman, our Lisa,” he mused, as he rose.
    Il Bue jumped to his feet and assisted him with his overcoat.
    â€œYou will probably find her useful, to-night.”
    â€œWhy don’t you trust her to get the jewel from this pig’s house?” asked the tall man gruffly.
    The young exquisite smiled.
    â€œMy poor man,” he said, “if I do not trust a brother, why should I trust—”
    â€œNo,” he said, a little harshly, as he stood by the door buttoning his coat, “I take no more risks. My father warned me against any such folly, and I neglected his warning. I have had to pay the price for my neglect. Who is outside?” he asked suddenly.
    â€œBeppo,” said Il Bue. “I had to have somebody who was reliable. Beppo loves the dark.”
    â€œHe is an unwholesome beast,” said the young man, lightly. “He would cut my throat or yours for a piastre.”
    â€œThat may be,” said the other, with a growl, “but a man whose neck is in danger, and whose life depends upon keeping faith, is one to employ for such work.”
    They opened the door, the brawny host leading the way, carrying a hand-lamp. A figure sat crouched