receive visitors at that hour, or else Phillopolis himself
had some reason for postponing the invitation.

The reason for the delay was explained in a sensational manner. Suddenly
the door opened and a man came out. He was followed by two others and
between them was Phillopolis, and the street-lamp shone upon the steel
handcuffs on his wrists. Pinto drew back into a doorway and watched.
Phillopolis was talking--it would perhaps be more accurate to say that
he was raving at the top of his voice, cursing and sobbing in a frenzy.

"You planted them--it is a plant!" he yelled. "You devils!"

"Are you coming quietly?" said a voice. "Or are you going to make
trouble? Take him, Dempsey!"

Phillopolis seemed to have forgotten Pinto's presence, for he went out
of the street without once calling upon him to testify to his character
and innocence. Pinto waited till he was gone, and then strolled across
the road to the detective who stood before the door lighting his pipe.

"Good evening," he said, "has there been some trouble?"

The officer looked at him suspiciously. But Pinto was in evening dress
and talked like a gentleman, and the policeman thawed.

"Nothing very serious, sir," he said, "except for the man. He's a
fence."

"A what?" said Pinto with well-feigned innocence.

"A receiver of stolen property. We found his lodgings full of stuff."

"Good Heavens!" gasped Pinto.

"Yes, sir," said the man, delighted that he had created a sensation. "I
never saw so much valuable property in one room in my life. There was a
big burglary in Regent Street last night. A jeweller's shop was cleared
out of about twenty thousand pounds' worth of necklaces, and we found
every bit of it here to-night. We've always suspected this man," he went
on confidentially. "Nobody knew how he got his living, but from
information we received to-day we were able to catch him red-handed."

"Thank you," said Pinto faintly, and walked slowly home, for now he no
longer feared to meet the colonel. He had something to tell him,
something that would inspire even Boundary with apprehension.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE VOICE IN THE ROOM

As Silva anticipated, the colonel was up and waiting for him. He was
playing Patience on his desk and looked up with a scowl as the
Portuguese entered.

"So you've been skulking, have you, Pinto?" he began, but the other
interrupted him.

"You can keep all that talk for another time," he said. "They've taken
Phill