But, somehow, he believed in that little Jew: he believed, much
more, in the little Jew's greed for a hundred pounds of ready money. The
little Jew with the cunning smile had seen his chance of making a quiet
penny, and had taken it--it was all right, said Yada, all right. And yet,
there was one horrible thought--supposing, now that Melky had got the
cheque, that he cashed it and made off with all the money, never to
return?
On top of that thought, Melky did return--much sooner than Yada had
expected. He opened the door and beckoned the prisoner out into the dark
lobby at the top of the stairs.
"Come here a minute, mister," said Melky, invitingly. "Just a word!"
Yada, all unsuspecting, stepped out--and found his arms firmly gripped by
two bulky policemen. The policemen were very quiet--but Melky laughed
gleefully while Yada screamed and cursed him. And while he laughed Melky
went through his prisoner's pockets in a knowing and skilful fashion, and
when he had found what he expected to find, he made his helpers lock Yada
up again, and taking them downstairs to the parlour laid his discoveries
on the table before them and Zillah.
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