nduct a rapid examination of all the drawers in Kara's
desk might be excused on the score of diligence, since he was, to some
extent, in the confidence of his employer.

Kara was given to making friends of his servants--up to a point. In his
more generous moments he would address his bodyguard as "Fred," and
on more occasions than one, and for no apparent reason, had tipped his
servant over and above his salary.

Mr. Fred Fisher found little to reward him for his search until he came
upon Kara's cheque book which told him that on the previous day the
Greek had drawn 6,000 pounds in cash from the bank. This interested him
mightily and he replaced the cheque book with the tightened lips and
the fixed gaze of a man who was thinking rapidly. He paid a visit to
the library, where the secretary was engaged in making copies of Kara's
correspondence, answering letters appealing for charitable donations,
and in the hack words which fall to the secretaries of the great.

He replenished the fire, asked deferentially for any instructions and
returned again to his quest. This time he made the bedroom the scene of
his investigations. The safe he did not attempt to touch, but there
was a small bureau in which Kara would have placed his private
correspondence of the morning. This however yielded no result.

By the side of the bed on a small table was a telephone, the sight of
which apparently afforded the servant a little amusement. This was
the private 'phone which Kara had been instrumental in having fixed to
Scotland Yard--as he had explained to his servants.

"Rum cove," said Fisher.

He paused for a moment before the closed door of the room and smilingly
surveyed the great steel latch which spanned the door and fitted into
an iron socket securely screwed to the framework. He lifted it
gingerly--there was a little knob for the purpose--and let it fall
gently into the socket which had been made to receive it on the door
itself.

"Rum cove," he said again, and lifting the latch to the hook which held
it up, left the room, closing the door softly behind him. He walked down
the corridor, with a meditative frown, and began to descend the stairs
to the hall.

He was less than half-way down when the one maid of Kara's household
came up to meet him.

"There's a gentleman who wants to see Mr. Kara," she said, "here is his
card."

Fisher took the card from the salver and read, "Mr. George Gathercole,
Junior Travellers' Club."