"Then let us come at once," I cried, "we are wasting the precious, precious time!" The Professor did not move, but simply said:—
"And how are we to get into that house in Piccadilly?"
"Any way!" I cried. "We shall break in if need be."
"And your police; where will they be, and what will they say?"
I was staggered; but I knew that if he wished to delay he had a good reason for it. So I said, as quietly as I could:—
"Don't wait more than need be; you know, I am sure, what torture I am in."
"Ah, my child, that I do; and indeed there is no wish of me to add to your anguish. But just think, what can we do, until all the world be at movement. Then will come our time. I have thought and thought, and it seems to me that the simplest way is the best of all. Now we wish to get into the house, but we have no key; is it not so?" I nodded. "Now suppose that you were, in truth, the owner of that house, and could not still get it; and think there was to you no conscience of the housebreaker, what would you do?"
"I should get a respectable locksmith, and set him to work to pick the lock for me."
"And your police, they would interfere, would they not?"
"Oh, no! not if they knew the man was properly employed."
"Then," he looked at me as keenly as he spoke, "all that is in doubt is the conscience of the employer, and the belief of your policemen as to whether or no that employer has a good conscience or a bad one. Your police must indeed be zealous men and clever—oh, so clever!—in reading the heart, that they trouble themselves in such matter. No, no, my friend Jonathan, you go take the lock off a hundred empty house in this your London, or of any city in the world; and if you do it as such things are rightly done, and at the time such things are rightly done, no one will interfere. I have read of a gentleman who owned a so line house in London, and when he went for months of summer to Switzerland and lock up his house, some bur-
