Cecil’s face showed indecision.
“I shouldn’t mind giving Maurice a twinge or two just to teach him manners,” he confessed. “But I don’t see much in the notion as it stands, Foxy. Maurice is posting a keeper in the museum, you know; and that complicates things a bit. The keeper would spot any of us tampering with things. He knows us all as well as his own brother.”
“Not in fancy dress, with a mask on, dear boy. Don’t forget that part of it.
Fancy me in fancy dress,
Fancy me as Good Queen Bess!”
he hummed softly. “Only I don’t think I’ll come as Good Queen Bess, after all.”
Cecil knitted his brows slightly and seemed to be considering Foxy’s idea.
“I wouldn’t mind giving Maurice a start,” he admitted half-reluctantly. “And your notion might be good enough if one could work it out properly. Question is, can you? Suppose you suddenly make a grab for some of the stuff. The keeper’ll be down on you like a shot. He’ll yell for help; and you’ll be pinched for a cert. before you could get away. There doesn’t seem to be anything in it, Foxy.”
“Hold on for a minute. I’ll see my way through it.”
Foxy took a cigarette, lighted it, and seemed to cogitate deeply over the first few puffs.
“I’ve got it!” he announced. “It’s dead easy. Suppose one of us grabs the keeper while the other helps himself to the till? We could easily knock out the keeper between us and get off all right without an alarm being raised.”
Cecil shook his head.
“No, I draw the line at using a sand-bag or a knuckle-duster on our own keeper. That’s barred, Foxy. Think again.”
“There’s aye a way,” Foxy assured him sententiously. “Give me another jiffy or two. This is how it goes. We mustn’t knock out the keeper. We mustn’t be recognized. We’ve got to get away scot-free, or the joke would be on us. These the conditions?”
Cecil nodded.
“This is where pure genius comes in,” Foxy announced with pride. “How does one recognize anyone? By looking at ’em. So if the keeper can’t look at us, he won’t recognize us. That’s as sound as Euclid, if not sounder.”
“Well?” asked Una, joining in the conversation.
“Well, he won’t recognize us if the place is dark, then,” explained Foxy, triumphantly. “All we have to do is to get the light in the room switched off, and the thing’s as good as done.”
“That seems to hit the mark,” Cecil agreed. “But that makes it a three-handed job, you know: one to grab the keeper; one to snaffle the stuff; and one to pull out the fuse of the museum light from the fuse-box. Where’s our third man?”
Una leaned forward eagerly.
“I’ll do that part for you! I’d like to make Maurice sit up. He hasn’t been very nice to me lately; and I want to pay him out just a little.”
“Nonsense, Una,” Cecil interrupted. “You can’t be mixed up in a joke of this sort. There’s almost bound to be a row after it. It doesn’t matter in my case; Maurice has his knife into me anyway, you know. But there’s no need for you to be getting your fingers nipped.”
Una brushed the suggestion aside.
“What can Maurice do to me even if he does find out? I’ve nothing to do with him. And, besides, how is he going to find out anything about it? I suppose you’ll just keep the things for a day or two and then return them by some way that he can’t trace. He’ll never know who did it, unless we let it out ourselves. And we mustn’t let it out, of course.”
Foxy nodded his agreement. Cecil was longer in his consideration; but at last he seemed to fall in with the arrangement.
“Well, so long as Una’s name isn’t mixed up in it, Foxy, I’m your man. It’s a silly caper; but I’m not above going into it for the sport of vexing my good brother.”
“Right!” said Foxy, with relief. “Now the next article: What’s the best thing to go for? It must be portable, of course.”
Cecil pondered for a moment; then, as a thought struck him, he laughed.
“Here’s the game. It may be news to you, Foxy, but my good brother is taking steps to sell off our collection.”
Foxy was quite plainly staggered by this news.
“All the stuff your father got together? Surely not! Well, that’s the limit!”
“Quite,” confirmed Cecil. “I’d prevent it if I could; but he’s got the whip-hand, and that’s all there is to it.”
Foxy seemed still slightly incredulous.
“Why, your Governor loved that stuff as if it were a child! And Maurice doesn’t need the money he’ll get for it. It’s . . . it’s shameful! My word! If I were in your shoes, Cecil, I believe I’d really steal the stuff instead of only pretending to grab it.”
