He felt his way carefully along the wall of the house and groped with hope, but with no great certainty, along the window sill.

He found an envelope which his fingers, somewhat sensitive from long employment in nefarious uses, told him contained nothing more substantial than a letter.
He went back through the garden and rejoined his companion, who was waiting under an adjacent lamp-post.
"Did she drop ?" asked the other eagerly.
"I don't know yet," growled the man from the garden.
He opened the envelope and read the few lines.
"She hasn't got the money," he said, "but she's going to get it.

I must meet her to-morrow afternoon at the corner of Oxford Street and Regent Street." "What time!" asked the other.
"Six o'clock," said the first man.

"The chap who takes the money must carry a copy of the Westminster Gazette in his hand." "Oh, then it's a plant," said the other with conviction.
The other laughed.
"She won't work any plants.

I bet she's scared out of her life." The second man bit his nails and looked up and down the road, apprehensively.
"It's come to something," he said bitterly; "we went out to make our thousands and we've come down to 'chanting' for 20 pounds." "It's the luck," said the other philosophically, "and I haven't done with her by any means.