They're here in Brighton.

I'd given it up; I was going to dine here, sleep the night, and go back to London to fight it out--not that it's of any use unless I can see Meyer--when I saw you.

I'll give--I'll give five thousand pounds to anyone who can get me across to Paris secretly.

It's here--in my pocket." And he tapped his breast.
Sir Tancred thought earnestly for fully five minutes; then he said, "It can't be done." "Don't say so! now don't," said the financier, "The money's here! Here!" and he again slapped his breast pocket.
"It's no use," said Sir Tancred.

"I might smuggle you out of the hotel; but there isn't any sort of vessel, steamer, steam yacht, or launch to take you across." "Let's go to Dover in my car!" "What's the use?
The detectives would follow in theirs." The financier groaned, and some large tears ran down his face.