r a handkerchief," said Oliva. "I am afraid I am going
to cry!"

He settled himself back in the corner of the car with a sigh of
resignation, accepting her explanation--sarcasm was wholly wasted on van
Heerden.

* * * * *

"Well, gentlemen," said Milsom, "I don't think there's anything more I
can tell you. What are you going to do with me?"

"I'll take the responsibility of not executing the warrant," said
McNorton. "You will accompany one of my men to his home to-night and you
will be under police supervision."

"That's no new experience," said Milsom, "there's only one piece of
advice I want to give you."

"And that is?" asked Beale.

"Don't underrate van Heerden. You have no conception of his nerve. There
isn't a man of us here," he said, "whose insurance rate wouldn't go up
to ninety per cent. if van Heerden decided to get him. I don't profess
that I can help you to explain his strange conduct to-day. I can only
outline the psychology of it, but how and where he has hidden his code
and what circumstances prevent its recovery, is known only to van
Heerden."

He nodded to the little group, and accompanied by McNorton left the
room.

"There goes a pretty bad man," said Kitson, "or I am no judge of
character. He's an old lag, isn't he?"

Beale nodded.

"Murder," he said laconically. "He lived after his time. He should have
been a contemporary of the Borgias."

"A poisoner!" shuddered one of the under-secretaries. "I remember the
case. He killed his nephew and defended himself on the plea that the
youth was a degenerate, as he undoubtedly was."

"He might have got that defence past in America or France," said Beale,
"but unfortunately there was a business end to the matter. He was the
sole heir of his nephew's considerable fortune, and a jury from the
Society of Eugenics would have convicted him on that."

He looked at his watch and turned his eyes to Kitson.

"I presume Miss Cresswell is bored and has retired for the night," he
said.

"I'll find out in a moment," said Kitson. "Did you speak to her?"

Beale nodded, and his eyes twinkled.

"Did you make any progress?"

"I broke the sad news to her, if that's what you mean."

"You told her she was married to you? Good heavens! What did she say?"

"Well, she didn't faint, I don't think she's the fainting kind. She is
cursed with a sense of humour, and refused even to take a tragic view."

"That's bad," said Kitson