He took a letter from his pocket, and put it prominently on the dressing-table.

It ran: DEAR FATHER: I have taken Bloomenroot to Parris in Herr Shlugst flyingmacheen.
Bring him to meet me at the Ifell Tower.
Your affectionate son TINKER.
Then, with his boots in his hand, he stole across to the financier's room.

Thanks to the brandy, the financier looked very much wound up.
Tinker bade him write on a sheet of notepaper, "Don't call me till eleven," pinned it on the outside of his bedroom door, locked it, and took the key.

He left the sitting-room door unlocked.

Then he opened the window, and, followed by his protege, who was already shivering with dread, he stepped out on to the balcony with the air of the leader of an army.