is life had been in danger--and these were not of infrequent
occurrence--Mary Kerry, if sleeping, had awakened, trembling, though the
scene of peril were a hundred miles away, and if awake had blanched and
known a deadly sudden fear.

"Ye'll be goin' to bed?" she asked.

"For three hours, Mary. Don't fail to rouse me if I oversleep."

"Is it clear to ye yet?"

"Nearly clear. The dark thing you saw behind it all, Mary, was dope!
Kazmah's is a secret drug-syndicate. They've appointed a Home office
agent, and he's working independently of us, but..."

His teeth came together with a snap.

"Oh, Dan," said his wife, "it's a race? Drugs? A Home office agent? Dan,
they think the Force is in it?"

"They do!" rapped Kerry. "I'm for Leman Street in three hours. If
there's double-dealing behind it, then the mugs are in the East End,
and it's folly, not knavery, I'm looking for. It's a race, Mary, and the
credit of the Service is at stake! No, my dear, I'll have a snack when I
wake. You're going shopping?"

"I am, Dan. I'd ha' started, but I wanted to see ye when ye came hame.
If ye've only three hours go straight up the now. I'll ha' something hot
a' ready when ye waken."

Ten minutes later Kerry was in bed, his short clay pipe between his
teeth, and The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius in his hand. Such was his
customary sleeping-draught, and it had never been known to fail. Half
a pipe of Irish twist and three pages of the sad imperial author
invariably plunged Chief Inspector Kerry into healthy slumber.

CHAPTER XXV. NIGHT-LIFE OF SOHO

It was close upon midnight when Detective-Sergeant Coombes appeared in a
certain narrow West End thoroughfare, which was lined with taxicabs and
private cars. He wore a dark overcoat and a tweed cap, and although his
chin was buried in the genial folds of a woollen comforter, and his cap
was pulled down over his eyes, his sly smile could easily be detected
even in the dim light afforded by the car lamps. He seemed to have
business of a mysterious nature among the cabmen; for with each of them
in turn he conducted a brief conversation, passing unobtrusively
from cab to cab, and making certain entries in a notebook. Finally he
disappeared. No one actually saw him go, and no one had actually seen
him arrive. At one moment, however, he was there; in the next he was
gone.

Five minutes later Chief Inspector Kerry entered the street. His dark
overcoat and white silk muffler concealed