ly. "And I don't mind telling
you," he added, recovering something of his natural confidence,
"that I am leaving on the 31st. This job ain't any use to me!"

"Too much work?" suggested Bristol.

"No work at all!" returned the boy indignantly. "I'm just here
for a blessed buffer, that's what I'm here for, a buffer!"

"What do you mean?"

"I just have to sit here and see that nobody gets into that
office. Lively, ain't it? Where's the prospects?"

Bristol surveyed him thoughtfully.

"Look here, my lad," he said quietly; "is that door locked?"

"Always," replied the boy.

"Does Mr. Knowlson come to that shutter when you knock?"

"Yes."

"Then go and knock!"

The boy obeyed with alacrity. He rapped loudly on the door, not
noticing or not caring that the visitor was standing directly
behind him. The shutter was lowered and a grizzled, bearded face
showed for a moment through the opening.

Bristol leant over the boy and pushed a card through into the hand
of the man beyond. On this occasion it did not bear the legend
"John Henry Smith," but the following--

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRISTOL
C.I.D.
NEW SCOTLAND YARD

"Good afternoon, Mr. Knowlson," said the detective dryly. "I want
to come in!"

There followed a moment of silence, from which Bristol divined that
he had blundered upon some mystery, possibly upon a big case; then
a key was turned in the lock and the door thrown open.

"Come right in, Inspector," invited a strident voice. "Carter, you
can go home."

Bristol entered warily, but not warily enough. For as the door
was banged upon his entrance he faced around only in time to
find himself looking down the barrel of a Colt automatic.

With his back to the door which contained the wicket, now reclosed,
stood the man with the bearded face. The revolver was held in his
left hand; his right arm terminated in a bandaged stump. But
without that his steel-gray eyes would have betrayed him to the
detective.

"Good God!" whispered Bristol. "It's Earl Dexter!"

"It is!" replied the cracksman, "and you've looked in at a real
inconvenient time! My visitors mostly seem to have that knack.
I'll have to ask you to stay, Inspector. Sit down in that chair
yonder."

Bristol knew his man too well to think of opening any argument at
that time. He sat down as directed, and ignoring the revolver
which covered him all the time, began