d been originally intended for a dwelling
house, but its enterprising owner had fitted a kitchenette and a
bathroom to every floor and had made each suite self-contained.

She found the one bedroom and a sitting-room quite sufficient for her
needs. Since the day of her father's departure she had not heard from
him, and she had resolutely refused to worry. What was Solomon White's
association with the Boundary gang, she could only guess. She knew it
had been an important one, but her fears on his behalf had less to do
with the action the police might take against him than with Boundary's
sinister threat.

She had other reasons for leaving the stage than she had told Stafford
King. On the stage she was a marked woman and her movements could be
followed for at least three hours in the day, and she was anxious for
more anonymity. She was conscious of two facts as she opened the outer
door that night to let herself into the hallway, and hurried up to her
apartments. The first was that she had been followed home, and that
impression was the more important of the two. She did not switch on the
light when she entered her room, but bolting the door behind her, she
moved swiftly to the window and raised it noiselessly. Looking out, she
saw two men on the opposite side of the street, standing together in
consultation. It was too dark to recognise them, but she thought that
one figure was Pinto Silva.

She was not frightened, but nevertheless she looked thoughtfully at the
telephone, and her hand was on the receiver before she changed her mind.
After all, they would know where she lived and an inquiry at her agents
or even at the theatre would tell them to where her letters had been
readdressed. She hesitated a moment, then pulled down the blinds and
switched on the light.

Outside the two men saw the light flash up and watched her shadow cross
the blind.

"It is Maisie all right," said Pinto. "Now tell me what happened."

In a few words Crewe described the scene which he had witnessed in the
Albemarle flat.

"Impossible!" said Pinto; "are you suggesting that Maisie is Jack o'
Judgment?"

Crewe shrugged.

"I know nothing about it," he said; "there are the facts."

Pinto looked up at the light again.

"I'm going across to see her," he said, and Crewe made a grimace.

"Is that wise?" he asked; "she doesn't know we have followed her home.
Won't she be suspicious?"

Pinto shrugged.

"She's a pretty clever girl that,"