In the half hour preceding dinner, the guests of Wickham Towers began to reassemble in the big lounge, and Larose was introduced to several more of them. As he had expected, there were many well-known people among them, and mindful of Sir Henry’s official position, he was not at all surprised at the number of political and service men.

Many of them, from photographs he had seen in the newspaper, he already knew by sight, and the names of many others rang familiarly in his ears.

He thought with a smile how interested Herr Blitzen must be to find himself in this company, if that gentleman’s holiday in England had anything of the nature of espionage about it.

But the whole time the Teuton’s manner was most cold and distant, and, except when speaking to a woman, he never seemed to smile. When, however, he was introduced to anyone of military rank he never failed to eye him intently, for all the world, Larose thought, as if he were judging him by the standard of the officer classes of his own country.

“Yes, where he comes from,” summed up Larose, “he’s a man of some importance, right enough! One can be quite certain of that. But he’s very vain, and I should say not too well balanced. He’s like a little child in the way he lets his thoughts show in his face. Why, just by looking at his expression, I can tell whether he’s speaking to a man or a woman, and if a man whether the chap is a civilian or of military rank. He despises the civilian and is jealous of the officer.”

Then, as Larose was watching Herr Blitzen talking to a tall blonde girl of fine proportions, who had evidently caught his fancy, he suddenly saw Blitzen’s whole expression alter, first to one of great surprise, and then to that which looked not unlike one of malevolent hate. Herr Blitzen was now looking right across the lounge.

Then Larose heard a deep voice say. “How do you do, Lady Willingdean. I was afraid I should be late. I was kept at that bothering office of mine!” And, turning quickly round to see who the speaker was, he recognised him at once as Lord Michael, the Secretary of State for War, and president of the Army Council.

There was no mistaking that tall, fine looking man, with the leonine head. He was over six feet tall, and carried himself like the aristocrat and great man he was.

With a quiet chuckle to himself, Larose turned quickly back to Herr Blitzen. The latter was now looking more composed; but his expression was still an unpleasant one.

“Exactly,” smiled Larose, “so he recognised Lord Michael and he doesn’t like him! No wonder! Who of his nationality does?”

Then a few minutes later he was greatly interested to see the German introduced to Lord Michael.

“This is Herr Blitzen, Lord Michael,” said Lady Willingdean sweetly, “a Swiss gentleman from Zurich.” The German drew himself up stiffly, with his face an impenetrable mask.

But Lord Michael was disposed to be quite friendly, and held out his hand, which Herr Blitzen, after a moment’s hesitation, took very coldly.

“How d’ya do, sir,” boomed Lord Michael, “I’m a great admirer of your country and its splendid little army.” He spoke most genially. “I must have a talk with you about it after dinner,” and he moved on to greet other guests he knew.

The dinner that night was a delightful meal, and Larose thought gratefully of the comforts money could bring. Every sense was appealed to.

There was the best of food and the rarest of wines. The crystal and the silver were a delight to the eye, and the flowers upon the table were a dream of beauty. The service was perfect, with Cramp, the butler, marshalling and directing the large number of servants under him, like a great general conducting a campaign.

Larose was very interested in Cramp, for the latter was quite as distinguished looking in his way as many of the guests. He was big and tall and imposing, with a large face and eagle eyes. He moved with great dignity, too, and it was evident he regarded a meal not just as a matter of eating and drinking, but as a most important ceremony to be carried through with all due regard to tradition, and most solemn ritual.

There were many beautiful jewels being worn, and Larose made a half wink at Pellew, who was seated opposite to him, as he saw the latter covertly taking notes of them. But Pellew glared at him scornfully, and then did not look in his direction again.

“But I know what you’re thinking of, my fine fellow,” murmured Larose. “All through the fish you were looking at the pearls round that stout woman’s neck, and I’m sure you couldn’t have tasted a morsel of the delicious salmon. I see I’ll have to keep an eye on you. I don’t forget those stolen diamonds and emeralds you produced from your back pocket that morning in Curtain Lane.”

So, after dinner, when he heard that while the young people were dancing, some of the men were intending to adjourn to the card room for a quiet game of poker and that Pellew was to be among them, he decided to join in, too. He saw Pellew scowl when he accepted Captain Willingdean’s invitation, and his annoyance afforded him no little amusement.

The poker was quite interesting, but the Captain was evidently in a chastened mood, and, rather to everyone’s surprise, bet lightly. So, indeed, did all the others except Pellew, and, again to everyone’s surprise, the quiet and sedate Mr. Wheatley, who every now and then came out strongly. But the latter was at the same time very cautious, and it was soon noted he very often threw in his hand when Pellew was dealing.

Pellew seemed to have remarkable luck, and all along got good cards, but towards the end of the play, with all his good fortune, he came down very heavily.

It had been Mr. Wheatley’s deal, and Pellew had been very confident with, as it turned out afterwards, a full hand comprising the tens of diamonds, hearts and spades, and a pair of queens.

Everyone had thrown in their cards except Mr. Wheatley, who stubbornly raised every bet Pellew made until at last there was more than ￡100 on the table.

A few moments’ hesitation on the part of Pellew, and he announced curtly, “I’ll see you,” whereupon Mr. Wheatley spread out his cards upon the table and exposed four aces.

Pellew’s face was a study and then it went as black as thunder. “You ——” he began, but then he stopped and with a shrug of his shoulders, rose to his feet.

“My luck’s evidently turning,” he said, carelessly, “and if you all don’t mind, I think I’ll quit. I never believe in following up losses,” and Mr. Wheatley looked as quiet and demure as ever as he gathered up his winnings.

The next day was taken up with tennis and golf and canoe racing upon the large lake in the extensive grounds of Wickham Towers. As far as possible, Larose endeavoured to keep his eye upon both Herr Blitzen and Pellew at the same time. But it was a difficult matter, for the two never seemed to be in the same place together, indeed, as far as he could make out they did not appear to have been introduced to each other.

Herr Blitzen had now lost a little of his frown, and it was not to be wondered at considering the attention he was receiving. Larose heard Lord Michael say he must be taken down to Salisbury Plain to see some of the new light tanks they had got, while a member of Parliament was promising to arrange a visit for him to Portsmouth to go over the dockyards there.

And all the time the pretty Cecily was hovering close at hand, never for long, so it seemed to Larose, leaving her protege unattended.

“Yes, there’s something very funny going on,” Larose told himself, “and if it’s a prelude to any spying, then these girls are in it up to their necks. Perhaps this fellow’s some great technical expert, and has been sent over here to make use of his particular knowledge, with the very sound idea that no one would dream for a moment of his being really a spy. This visit here has been framed up by those girls, and now they’re pushing him for all they’re worth.”

But that night after dinner Larose became more puzzled than ever as to the exact relations between Blitzen and the very pretty Cecily Castle.

It had been arranged that after the great pianist had had time to digest the very substantial meal he had negotiated, he should give a selection from some of Chopin’s masterpieces and, a few moments before the recital was going to take place, Larose saw Blitzen and Cecily take themselves off into the garden.

Dusk had just fallen, but he had no difficulty in following them unobserved. Strolling along, as if they had no particular object in view, they passed out of the garden into the park and disappeared among a big belt of trees.

Larose made a wide detour and crept up round the other side of the trees, hoping with any good fortune to get close enough to hear what they were talking about.

He soon picked them out by the girl’s white dress, and then, to his amazement, saw that Blitzen had put his arm round her waist and was kissing her.

“Great Jupiter!” he exclaimed, “and if that’s why they came out here, then there’ll be no conversation about tanks and dockyards! Now I shall have to revise a lot of my ideas!”

The couple did not stay long, but returned to the house just in time to take their seats for the recital. Larose, from his position near the door, watched them furtively, always afraid, however, that Cecily would catch him. He thought the girl was looking rather sad. But as the music progressed, her companion’s face speedily became one of rapt enjoyment. All the arrogance of his expression faded, the frowning lines were smoothed away, and he looked quite kindly.

“Romance and music,” murmured Larose, “two of the greatest things in life worth having! He’s forgotten the bloody inclinations of his race, and for the moment has found something better than bombs and carnage.”

With a smile, he turned round to see what effect the music was having on Pellew. The stout woman had not worn her pearls that night at dinner, but now, with a necklace of diamonds, was seated just in front of Pellew, who was close by the curtains drawn before one of the big French windows.

Pellew appeared to be not much interested in the music but, instead, his eyes were roving round and round upon the company, almost, Larose thought, as if he were looking to see if they were all there.

Presently, Maroni came to the end of a delicious little nocturne, and a deep hush followed before his audience burst into loud and sustained applause.

Maroni bowed gravely in appreciation and then, with the enthusiasm of a great master, went on to explain the nature of the piece he was going to play next.

“And now,” he said smilingly, in his broken English, “I weel give you a lofly leetle cradle song, and you weel almost want to go to slip. A moth-er is seenging to her child, and as we are ourselves all cheeldren of ze great moth-er Nature, eet weel appeal to us as if we were leetle cheeldren, too.”

He commenced to play; and then suddenly Larose noticed that Pellew had disappeared.

“Now that’s very rude, and shocking bad manners,” he murmured. “If he were bored, he oughtn’t to have shown it!” Then suddenly an idea came to him. “But then, of course, he meant all the time to go out; and that’s why he took that seat by the window. Now what the deuce is he up to? Knowing what I do about him, anything he does is worth looking into! Yes, I’ll go and have a peep round, directly the piece is ended.”

Fortunately the cradle song was very short, and, in the applause which followed, Larose slipped out of the room, hoping he had not been noticed.

He made his way quickly into the grounds on the chance of catching Pellew spying about. There was no moon showing, but it was a star-lit night, and, his eyes soon accustomed to the darkness, he could pick out objects quite a fair distance away.

But there was not a soul in sight; and he was puzzled to know what to do. He moved back across the lawn and, hidden in the shadows, looked up at the great house silhouetted in sharp outline against the sky. The lights blazed from many windows on the ground floor, but all the upper windows were in darkness.

Then suddenly he heard a slight sound in the direction of some sheds and a moment later saw a figure come staggering along carrying a tall ladder.

“Pellew!” he gasped, “and he’s going to get into one of the bedrooms! Most likely he’s after that Mrs. Templer’s pearl necklace! What a nerve he’s got!”

Pellew passed within a few feet of him, puffing and grunting under his heavy burden. He reached the side of the house and started with much struggling to place the ladder in position. But the ladder was heavy and required a lot of manipulating and it was only inch by inch that he could raise it against the wall.

In the meantime, Larose had been thinking quickly. He did not intend that Pellew should succeed in any robbery and yet at the same time did not want Pellew to get caught. His freedom was essential if they were to find out the traitor who was selling the submarine plans and also the identities of the two men who were in grave danger of being assassinated.

A couple of minutes passed, with Pellew straining and straining with the ladder. He kept on looking round, but all appeared safe. Then just as he had got the ladder into position under the sill of one of the windows on the first floor and was preparing to mount — there came the loud crack of breaking glass, as half a brick went hurtling through the window of the servants’ hall, where Cramp was at that moment presiding majestically over the staff supper.

A moment’s tense silence and then came hoarse shouting, and the sounds of doors opening and of many trampling feet. Half a dozen excited footmen poured out into the grounds to see, however, no one in sight. But Cramp caught sight of the big ladder planted right under the window of what was soon shouted was Mrs. Templer’s room.

“Quick, scout round the grounds!” he roared. “There are burglars here!” and the footmen scattered in all directions.

But no strangers were to be found anywhere and the searchers soon returned to receive more directions from the quick-witted Cramp.

“Surround all the house,” he ordered, peremptorily. “The burglars may be inside, and you, Nixon, go and fetch Sir Henry out very quietly. Stop making any more noise, you fellows. The guests mustn’t be frightened.”

Sir Henry Willingdean was quickly upon the scene and then, every exit being closely guarded, the house was searched thoroughly from garret to cellar. But there was no sign of any burglar anywhere and it did not appear that any room had been disturbed.

It was very puzzling, and no one could understand why, if anyone had been in the act of burgling the house, warning of what was taking place had been given by breaking a window.

Then the guests were taken aside, one by one, and told quietly what had happened. They were asked to go over their belongings to see if anything was missing.

Mrs. Templer had almost had apoplexy at the very thought but, upon going over the many pieces of priceless jewellery she had brought with her, found, as everyone else had done, that nothing had been taken.

It was very puzzling; and again no one could understand who had disturbed the burglar in his work by throwing a brick through a window.

Then Mr. Wheatley furnished a possible explanation. He suggested that it might perhaps have been an unpleasant practical joke upon the part of some jealous-minded local person. Whereupon Cramp, with some diffidence, at once adduced certain facts likely to support that contention.

He said that one night, passing through Wickham village, he had happened to suddenly feel rather faint, and so had called in at the Rose and Crown for a thimbleful of brandy. There, in the public bar, he had been very pained to hear some of the villagers express decided revolutionary views. They had sneered at Mr. Neville Chamberlain and run down the Archbishop of Canterbury and the House of Lords. He felt sure these villagers were of the very type of men to plant ladders and throw bricks to vent their spite against the more favored classes.

Everyone at once seemed very relieved and upon the part of the ladies, at all events, smiling faces now took the place of frightened ones.

The next morning, however, Sir Henry looked very worried. It had been noticed that Cramp was absent from his duties, and the explanation given was that the previous night the butler had had a nasty fall on the staircase, and was now obliged to keep to his bed because of bruises and shock.

It appeared that he had just come out of Lord Michael’s bedroom about half-past eleven, where he had been to see if his lordship was requiring anything more, and was at the very top of the grand staircase when he had slipped and fallen heavily. Happily, however, he had had one hand upon the bannisters when he had slipped, and so had managed to save himself from a major fall. It had undoubtedly been a narrow escape from serious injury, for the staircase was long and steep and the butler a heavy man.

That was the explanation Sir Henry gave out to the guests, generally, but privately to Larose, he told quite a different story. Cramp had been deliberately pushed down the stairs! Someone had come up behind him, just as he was stepping down off the landing, and given him a violent punch upon the back of his neck. Then, whoever it was, had thrown all his force against him with the intention of sending him crashing down into the hall below.

“And I believe it, Mr. Larose,” said Sir Henry, earnestly. “Cramp is not an imaginative man, and he does not exaggerate. He says, that as he fell, he swung half-round and distinctly saw a crouching figure above him. Unhappily all the lights upon the landing were dimmed and he can give no description. Then the doctor, who examined him this morning, said he had undoubtedly been struck upon the neck with what looked very like a clenched fist.”

Larose’s thoughts instantly reverted to Pellew, and he wondered if the latter, coming unexpectedly upon the butler, had vented his spite upon him because of what had happened earlier in the evening. But a moment’s reflection, and he dismissed the idea. Pellew was certainly a hasty-tempered man, but he would not have acted in that way when there was nothing to gain by it.

“Well, what do you think about it, Mr. Larose?” asked Sir Henry, noticing his preoccupation.

“I was wondering if someone had got a bit fresh last night, and did it without thinking,” replied Larose, but Sir Henry shook his head and said there had been very little after-dinner drinking, and that everyone was perfectly sober.

Leaving Sir Henry, Larose went out on to one of the terraces and, happening to catch Herr Blitzen by himself upon one of the garden seats, sat down beside him. He had had no conversation with him up to this, and now thought it a good opportunity to plumb his mentality a little deeper.

The Herr received him with an unfriendly scowl, as if his intrusion were an impertinence and, to his remarks about the weather and the beauty of the countryside, replied only in curt monosyllables. Soon tiring of the one-sided nature of the conversation, Larose got up and walked away.

“He’s no spy, whatever he may be!” he told himself scoffingly. “No one would send out an ill-mannered brute like that!” He nodded. “Yes, I’m wasting my time on him. I’ll leave him for good.”

The house-party began to disperse that afternoon, and seeing Pellew go off with the Captain, Larose thought it useless waiting any longer. He had heard Cecily say that they and Herr Blitzen would be continuing on at the Arragon Hotel for a little time, and so he was reckoning he could pick them up again if he wanted to.

The next morning he started to watch the Baltic Embassy, but realised at once he would have to be very wary, for there was apparently a policeman always on duty close near.

Good fortune was, however, favoring him, for he had not been in Portland Place half an hour before he saw a well-dressed man come down the steps and start off at a brisk pace towards Oxford Circus. He recognised the walk and figure instantly. They were that of the man he had seen the few nights previously in conversation with Pellew in Hyde Park.

He followed closely after him and saw him go into a flower shop, where he was greeted smilingly, and evidently as a frequent customer, by one of the girl assistants. He bought a button-hole and Larose had a good look at him as he came out. He was good-looking, with a very intelligent face and eyes of a hard, steely-blue. He carried himself proudly, as if he were someone of importance and were very sure of himself.

When he had passed up the street, Larose went into the shop and, approaching the same assistant, bought a button-hole, too. Then he remarked carelessly, “That was Sir Herbert Brendon who just went out, wasn’t it?” And the girl replied, “No, sir, he was Herr von Ravenheim, the Baltic Ambassador.”

Larose left the shop with his heart pumping painfully. “Von Ravenheim!” he exclaimed. “Then it is any odds the contemplated assassinations are political ones! Good God! To think that the honored representative of a great country is trying to bring about the cold blooded murder of two of our public men! It is impossible.”

But then he remembered the so-called purge in a certain foreign city upon that dreadful night in May 193 —.

“Bah, they butchered seventy-five men then,” he went on, gritting his teeth. “So what are two more murders now? No, it is not impossible! That suave, pleasant-looking man who has just bought an orchid for his button-hole can be an apostle of murder when it is thought necessary. Nothing more, nothing less!”

He hailed a taxi and drove straight to Whitehall to acquaint Mr. Grant with all he had found out. But he found, to his great disappointment, that Mr. Grant was away ill and the date of his return was uncertain. He did not like the manner of the second in authority, and so, without making any disclosures, went on to Scotland Yard to interview Chief Inspector McKinnon.

Fortunately the Inspector was in the building and Larose was at once shown into his private room.

“Well, Inspector,” he asked eagerly. “What’s happened about those men?”

The inspector did not look too happy. “Nothing very startling! But they seem to have got over their fright and one of them, Pellew, was away for the whole week-end. He slipped us on Friday. He was with them when they started to come up to the City, but wasn’t in the car when it reached the garage in Aldgate. Then nothing more was seen of him until he turned up at the warehouse about half an hour ago. He had a suitcase with him. I’ve just got a telephone message to that effect.”

“Then what about the others?” asked Larose.

The inspector looked down at a sheet of paper on his desk. “On Saturday morning they took out the car and were away for about two hours. We don’t know where they went, because we could not follow them in the lanes, but they didn’t come up to town. They dropped the housekeeper at the railway station at Southminster. She had several bits of luggage with her and took a single ticket to London. So it looks as if she isn’t coming back.

“Is that all?” asked Larose.

“No, they were out in that launch yesterday, all the morning. But there’s nothing in that, for they were never more than a couple of miles out to sea, and they were fishing the whole time. Then Rising met the evening train at Southminster and took another elderly woman back to Marle House. She’s undoubtedly the successor to the woman who went away the previous day!”

“Then you’ve really found out nothing!” said Larose.

“Oh, far from that!” exclaimed the inspector. “We know they’re first class crooks, right enough, and that the wine and spirit business is only a blind. They can’t be doing any proper trade for they didn’t have a single customer either on Thursday or Friday and the phone was never used at all.”

“Then there was no one in Marle House for those two hours on Saturday morning!” said Larose, frowningly.

The inspector bridled. “What do you think?” He laughed. “No, Mr. Larose, you didn’t take all the wits with you when you left the Yard! Of course, we seized the opportunity, and one of our men, Davis, was in there for about half an hour. That was as long as he dared to stay. He got in through the kitchen window and had a good look round.”

“I never got the chance,” growled Larose. “They were always about when I was there.”

“Well, Davis did his best,” went on the inspector, “and paid particular attention to one room, because he found the door locked. He soon had it open, however, and came upon some very significant things.” He bent over the desk. “In a cupboard under some newspapers he found these automatics, wrapped up in a cloth, and a box of ammunition. There was also a silencer for each automatic!”

“What we should have expected!” nodded Larose. “They’re of the real gunmen type.” He corrected himself quickly. “Or rather Pellew is! I hardly think the others are! Well, anything else?”

“Yes, and something rather funny too!” said the inspector. “Part of this locked room was fitted up for photographic purposes and there were two good-class cameras there, a large one and a small hand one. Now here’s the funny business that we don’t understand. Some prints had, apparently, been just taken off that very morning, all of the same picture, and as there were seven on the table our men ventured to bring one away, thinking that if its absence were noted it would be imagined it had been burnt by mistake. There was a dirty grate in the room with a lot of ashes in it.”

He took the photograph from a drawer in his desk and handed it across to Larose. “Now, what is your idea about it? It’s a picture of part of the racecourse on Galleywood Common, about two and a half miles from Chelmsford.”

Larose regarded the photograph critically. It was about four inches square and depicted a wide stretch of common with a straight road running across it, and part of the white-railed track of a racecourse. There was a clump of small willow trees in the background. He screwed up his eyes in perplexity.

“And all the seven prints came off the same negative, you say?”

“No, no,” said the inspector, quickly, “and that’s what made our man so interested. All the photographs were of the same scene, but all varied a very little, only just sufficient, however, to be accounted for by the unintentional shifting of the cameras as the exposures were made. Our man’s opinion is that seven pictures were taken to be sure of getting a good one.”

“As if the matter were very important,” suggested Larose. He nodded. “We’ll have to think that over.”

“Well, that was all he found out there,” said the inspector, “and now about that launch of theirs. There is not the slightest doubt what they are using it for. We sent an expert searcher down from the customs on Friday, and he got into the shed and examined the launch, exactly as if he were looking for contraband. He soon found what might have been expected, a hiding place under a false bottom of the cupboard in the cabin, and he said it smelt strongly of opium.”

A short silence followed, and then Larose said, frowningly, “Well, it’s no good going on like this. We’re really getting nowhere, and don’t forgot those two murders are to be done by the middle of next month.”

His face broke into a smile. “I’ll have to get in touch again with these men myself.”

Parting with the inspector, he walked up the Strand, and presently picked out a taxi with a strong and hefty looking driver, and was driven to Curtain Lane.

There, alighting just outside the warehouse of the Malaga Wine and Spirit Company, he proceeded to give most explicit directions to the taximan.

“You are to wait for me here,” he ordered, “and on on account to go away. You are to take no orders from anyone except me. If anyone comes out and tells you you are not wanted any more, you are to take no notice. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” grinned the man. “I was in the army once and can take orders.”

“Another thing,” went on Larose. “Stand out on the pavement and keep your eye upon the door.” He closed one eye significantly. “I’m trying to collect the rent from these people, and they’re a tough lot.”

He opened the door of the warehouse and walked boldly in. “Good morning, Mr. Royne,” he said. “How do you do, Mr. Rising? Nice morning, isn’t it? I want to see Mr. Pellew. Is he in the office this morning?”

Royne and Rising looked thunderstruck. They were too astounded to speak, and just stood open-mouthed, as in the presence of an apparition from the dead.

Larose went on easily. “Yes, he’ll be quite pleased to see me if you tell him I’ve come about some pearls he was interested in last week. He and I are great friends now, and, of course, you’ve heard all about the party at Wickham Towers. We had a most enjoyable little visit and ——” but he saw the amazed Pellew peeping round the office door.

“Ah, there you are, Mr. Pellew! I’ve just come here in a taxi and it’s waiting for me outside. The driver’s an exarmy man and a champion boxer. He won’t go away without me.”

Pellew strode out of the office and advanced almost menacingly to Larose.

“What are you doing here?” he snarled. He scowled angrily. “You’ve got a nerve, haven’t you, you thief!”

Larose looked hurt. “Come, that’s not friendly, calling me a thief, Mr. Pellew.” His face broke into a broad smile. “What about yourself with that ladder up against the wall on Saturday night?”

“How did you come here?” asked Pellew, sharply.

Larose laughed. “Oh, I waited for your car to pass down the Mile End road this morning, and followed Mr. Rising here from the place where you garage it.”

“What do you want?”

“To have a talk with you! To put some business in your way. I’ve a job in view I can’t handle by myself, but the four of us could bring off something good.”

A long silence followed, with them all regarding him intently. He took out a cigarette and lighted it. Then he went on impressively ——

“But you must realise my intentions are quite friendly. If they weren’t, I should have tipped you off to the police, and Scotland Yard would have been here instead of me. They’d have been wanting to know about that fine motor boat of yours with its powerful engines, and what you are using it for.”

Pellew inclined his head towards the back office. “We’ll go in there,” he said curtly. “I’ll hear what you’ve got to say.”

Larose followed him into the room and he and Pellew sat down. The other two stood leaning in the doorway.

Larose spoke warningly, “But mind you — I guess what sort of men you are and I’m not quite a fool. So I’ve left a certain letter with my wife, and, if I don’t turn up tonight, she’ll take it straight to the police.” He laughed slyly. “Understand? My health’s a matter of importance to you.”

“All right. Don’t worry,” nodded Pellew, scornfully. “We won’t hurt you.” He looked the reverse of friendly. “Now what have you got to say?”

“First,” said Larose sharply, “you did me an ill turn when you went barging in for that fat woman’s pearl necklace in the way you did. It was a clumsy business and spoilt everything for me.”

“What do you mean?” scowled Pellew. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course, I didn’t actually see you with the ladder,” went on Larose, “but I saw you leave the room while the music was on and I saw you slip back afterwards, looking pretty puffed, just after the rumpus began. Then, next morning, I found some shreds of a grey suede glove upon the ladder and, while you were at breakfast. I went through your suitcase and saw the gloves there. Oh, yes, I could have given you away if I had wanted to!”

Pellew made no comment, but his breath came a little more quickly. Larose looked amused. “So you gave everyone the jitters, and all I could get was this.” He put his hand in his pocket and produced a diamond ring.

“I got it just as I was coming away. What’ll you give me for it? I reckon it’s worth ￡50,” and he pushed the ring over the desk towards Pellew.

Pellew was scowling hard, but he picked up the ring, and, with a quick jerk of his head, brought Rising and Royne to his side. They each handled the ring, while Larose leant back easily in his chair and blew rings with the smoke from his cigarette.

“You stole this?” asked Pellew, after a full minute’s silence.

“Well, it wasn’t given to me for a present,” laughed Larose. He became serious. “But that’s not my usual game. Still, I pinched it out of one of the women’s bags when she put it down for a moment in the hall, as she was getting on her gloves. I was always pretty quick with my fingers.” A thought seemed to strike him. “Oh, you’re not too good with your fingers, Mr. Pellew, although no doubt you think you are. You’re all thumbs.” He laughed again. “Why, at that poker game I could see every time when you were stuffing the cards! You’re a rotten judge of character, too. You ought to have got suspicious of me and noticed that every time you had been hokey-pokeying with the pack, I threw in my hand. But you went on just the same until you had dropped that forty-odd pounds. You woke up too late!”

Pellew’s face was crimson with annoyance. “You cheated in a gentleman’s house,” he began. “You ——”

“Of course I did,” agreed Larose readily, “exactly as you were doing. The only difference was, I did it better.”

“But who are you, — er-er, Mr. Bracegirdle,” broke in Rising, speaking most politely. “I think you should have begun any confidences by telling us that.”

“Quite reasonable!” nodded Larose. “If we’re going to do any business, you ought to know something about me.” He hesitated. “Well, I’ll tell you enough to inspire confidence at any rate.” He smiled. “You can call me Brown. That’s one of my names. I’m pretty well educated, and come from quite a good family. I’ve a brother a doctor and a cousin in the Admiralty. I used to be in a bank. I forged a cheque — as a matter of fact, I forged a good many — but I only got charged on one, and I got two years’ imprisonment. That was some time ago, and since then I’ve been living as best I could. Anything I could turn my hand to.”

“How did you come to be nearly drowned that night you came to us?” asked Pellew.

“I’d come off a boat. I’d jumped overboard,” replied Larose. “I was a bathroom steward, but I’d been caught with a passenger’s wallet and put in a cell. I got out and preferred the chance of getting ashore to more prison. I made a mistake. I thought I was much nearer land.”

“Then you made it all up about the Annette being blown up?” asked Pellew.

“Yes,” nodded Larose. He grinned. “I’m pretty good at yarns. I——”

“Wait a moment,” broke in Pellew. “There is a motor launch called Annette. I looked it up in the register.”

“Of course there is,” said Larose, in no way put out. “I came upon a board with the name upon it as I was swimming ashore.” He turned the conversation quickly. “But how much are you going to give me for that ring? I don’t know the ropes about selling jewel stuff. That’s not in my line, as I’ve told you.”

“I’ll give you ￡10,” said Pellew, now quite sure he was dealing with a thorough crook. “That’s all it’s worth to me.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Larose in pretended anger. “Even I know better than that.” He calmed down and spoke quite amiably. “Here, remembering our little game of poker, you shall have it for twenty quid. Not a sixpence less.”

Pellew appeared to consider. The ring was well worth fifty, and at any rate it would be concrete evidence against the man if he played any tricks.

“All right,” he said grudgingly. “I’ll make it twenty.” Then he asked suspiciously, “But here, if you were as you say, a clerk in a bank, how did you pick up your knowledge of motor engines?”

“Oh, I was nine months last year in a garage in Coventry,” replied Larose promptly, “and I’m naturally mechanically minded and picked things up very quickly.” He laughed slyly. “I had to leave there suddenly, because the boss told the bank the signature on a certain cheque wasn’t his.” He sighed. “I had bad luck. He happened to go through his pass book, which he very seldom did.”

Pellew seemed satisfied. “Well, what’s this proposition you want to put before me?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s about that fat woman’s pearl necklace,” replied Larose eagerly. “She’s a Mrs. Tremayne, and she’s living at Dorking. She’s a widow and she took a fancy to me. She’s invited me to a house-party she is giving when she comes back from Scotland next month, and I thought if you worked from outside I could arrange to get you in the house. She keeps all her stuff in an old safe; and safe-opening’s not in my line.”

“That’ll wait,” nodded Pellew, “but I want you in another way, first.” He frowned. “You didn’t make as good a job of that engine as you thought. It doesn’t go too well yet. They went out in it for a short trip yesterday and say it is very sluggish.”

Larose frowned. “Well, it can only be a very small matter,” he said. “Have a look at the sparking plugs. The points may be too close.”

“You could come down and see to it!” suggested Pellew, eyeing him intently. “We shall want it importantly in a few days.”

Larose did not look too pleased. “I don’t know whether I can,” he said doubtfully. “Those marshes of yours are darned lonely, and it’d be three against one.” His face brightened. “Still, you daren’t touch me while that letter’s handy for the police.” He looked intently at Pellew. “I shouldn’t wonder if you’ve not been in the jug yourself. You know a lot about prison life. I could tell it at once by the questions you asked me the morning after the night I came to your house.” He shook his head. “No, you can’t afford to have the police nosing about you. That’s certain.”

“Come down to business,” growled Pellew. “You’re quite wrong about me, as it happens.”

“Well, it’ll pay you to play fair with me,” said Larose, earnestly, “for if you’re bringing in opium, I might be able to help you a lot. I was very friendly with Les Brose, who was put away for trafficking last February, and know several of his pals who ought to have been roped in, too, when he was. I didn’t guess what they were all up to then, for they never breathed a word to me, but I know now and I could put you in touch with them. Then you’d be certain of getting good prices and not have to sell below market value. One of these chaps is a wholesale druggist. Yes, you give me a share in running the stuff and you’ll find me very useful.”

“I’ll think it over,” said Pellew, after a moment’s silence. “I don’t believe all you say.”

“Perhaps not,” said Larose, apparently not in the least offended. “But it happens for once to be the truth. I told you just now you were a bad judge of character.” He laughed merrily. “I should like to give you a few lessons in cards, too. You’re only a fumbler, compared with me. Why, if I could get into good class clubs, I could make a fortune that way and would never need to do anything else. I could teach you a lot.”

“Well, come down and spend the night with us and show me a thing or two,” said Pellew genially, and now smiling for the first time. “We’ll try you out.”

Larose appeared to think hard. “But what about that house-keeper?” he asked. “She’d know me again at once.”

“But she left on Saturday to go for a month’s holiday,” replied Pellew, “and her sister’s taking her place until she comes back. So you’ll be quite all right.”

“Then I’ll come,” said Larose, but still as if rather reluctantly. “When shall it be?”

“Tomorrow,” replied Pellew. “We’ll leave here at three o’clock, and then you can have a look at that engine first. We shall have plenty of time before dark. We’ve got a job on next week, and it must be tophole.” He nodded. “Perhaps you shall come with us to get the stuff. Then we shall feel safer if anything goes wrong.” He frowned heavily. “But one thing first. Who threw that brick on Friday night? Was it you?”

Larose looked indignant. “Of course it wasn’t! I never left the room. It was found out after you had gone that it was the gardener’s boy who had done it. Old Cramp had boxed his ears that morning for being cheeky to the cook.”

Everyone was now quite amiable, and a bottle of wine was brought in, and they drank to each others healths. But when Larose had gone Rising asked frowningly, “What about it, Pellew? Do you think he’s all right?”

“Oh, I think so,” replied Pellew. He smiled dryly. “He wasn’t the only one to do any looking into suitcases at Wickham Towers. I had a squint into his, and he’d got a gun parked there, right enough. Also a bunch of skeleton keys and some make-up. I think he pinched this ring from one of two girls who were pally with a foreigner there. I saw he had got his eyes on them the whole time.”

“Didn’t you find out anything about him from any of the other visitors there? asked Rising.

“Couldn’t,” replied Pellew. “No one had seen him before, not even Captain Willingdean. The Cap said his governor had brought him down, and not even his mother knew him.” He nodded. “That bears out his story that he had got there with those references he had stolen.” He nodded again. “But we’ll keep a good eye on him and see he’s up to no tricks.” He frowned. “I think he’s really written that letter he spoke about, for he wasn’t a bit afraid of drinking that sherry although he must have seen I had got my back turned to him when I poured it out. No, he wasn’t thinking I’d dope him. He knew he was quite safe.”