There was a hoarse murmur.
“That’s all right, gov’nor.” And then after a moment or two: “Suppose I’m nabbed.”
“You will have the best legal talent to defend you,” replied the German quietly. “But in any case you will wear gloves fitted with the fingerprints of a notorious housebreaker. You have little to fear.”
“Oh, I ain’t afraid, gov’nor. All for the good of the cause. The streets is going to run with blood, so they say.” He spoke with a grim relish. “Dreams of it, sometimes, I does. And diamonds and pearls rolling about in the gutter for anyone to pick up!”
Tommy heard a chair shifted. Then Number One spoke:
“Then all is arranged. We are assured of success?”
“I—think so.” But the German spoke with less than his usual confidence.
Number One’s voice held suddenly a dangerous quality:
“What has gone wrong?”
“Nothing; but—”
“But what?”
“The Labour leaders. Without them, as you say, we can do nothing. If they do not declare a general strike on the 29th—”
“Why should they not?”
“As you’ve said, they’re honest. And, in spite of everything we’ve done to discredit the government in their eyes, I’m not sure that they haven’t got a sneaking faith and belief in it.”