night before and the contents of the safe cleared.
The colonel had arrested his flow of vituperation, to speculate as to
the "artist" who had carried out this neat job.

Pinto read for a little, then threw the paper down. He wondered what
made him so restive and why he was so anxious to find something to
occupy his attention, and then he realised with a start that he did not
want to go back to face Colonel Boundary. It was the first time he had
ever experienced this sensation, and he did not like it. He had held his
place in the gang by the assurance, which was also an assumption, that
he was at least the colonel's equal. This irritated him. He put on his
overcoat and turned into the street. It was a chilly night and a thin
drizzle of rain was falling. He pulled up his coat-collar and looked
about for a taxi-cab. Neither outside the club nor in Pall Mall was one
visible.

He started to walk home, but still felt that disinclination to face the
colonel. Then a thought struck him; he would go and see Phillopolis, the
little Greek.

Phillopolis patronised a night-club in Soho, where he was usually to be
found between midnight and two in the morning. Having an objective,
Pinto felt in a happier frame of mine and walked briskly the intervening
distance. He found his man sitting at a little marble-topped table by
himself, contemplating a half-bottle of sweet champagne and a
half-filled glass. He was evidently deep in thought, and started
violently when Pinto addressed him.

"Sit down," he said with evident relief. "I thought it was----"

"Who did you think it was? You thought it was the police, I suppose?"
said Pinto with heavy jocularity, and to his amazement he saw the little
man wince.

"What has happened to Colonel Boundary?" asked the Greek irritably.
"There used to be a time when anybody he spoke for was safe. I'm getting
out of this country and I'm getting out quick," he added.

"Why?" asked Pinto, who was vitally interested.

The Greek threw out his hands with a little grimace.

"Nerves," he said. "I haven't got over that affair with the White girl."

"Pooh!" said the other. "If the police were moving in that matter,
they'd have moved long ago. You are worrying yourself unnecessarily,
Phillopolis."

Pinto's words slipped glibly from his tongue, but Phillopolis was
unimpressed.

"I know when I've had enough," he said. "I've got my passport and I'm
clearing out at the end of this week."

"Does the colon