doesn't matter but it
seems stupid not to trust one's own side. Oh, Mr. Cassis. I doubt if
he'd trust himself. 'Bye!"

She hung up the receiver with a little gesture of annoyance and crossed
to the writing table. From a small drawer above the pigeon holes she
took a photograph of a man in flannels. It was signed "Yours for
keeps, Tony." She read the inscription and smiled--and it was not a
very kindly smile.

* * * * * *

Harrison Smith, as a prospective buyer, proved extremely tiresome to
the staff of the Motor Show Rooms in Park Lane. He shilly-shallied
from one car to another asking rather stupid questions for the best
part of two hours. The exquisitely dressed salesman poured forth his
eulogies in vain. Nothing could make Mr. Smith decide. He would
listen attentively to long recitals of the respective virtues of this
make and that and then would gaze out into the street as though lost in
contemplation. In the midst of listening to a highly technical
discourse on the subject of cantilever springs, without a word of
warning he leapt into the interior of a big Siddeley Saloon and closed
the door behind him. The salesman looked at Mr. Smith in amazement but
Mr. Smith was looking into the street along which three very
serious-looking men were slowly progressing. Two of them supported the
third who was very old and very bent. His face was set in an
expression of acute anguish. They helped him into a waiting
automobile, shook their heads at each other and proceeded in different
directions. The automobile started up and moved away. The old man's
head was sunk upon his chest.

When all three were out of view Harrison Smith emerged from the
Siddeley Saloon, glanced at his watch, thanked the salesman, said he
would call again and passed out of the showrooms. On the pavement he
halted and, like the three gentlemen who had occupied his attention, he
too shook his head.

"They seem pretty well in the depths now," he reflected. "Wonder if
I'm making a fool of myself."

He would have wondered even more acutely had he seen Mr. Torrington
straighten up and smile as the big ear turned into the Park through
Stanhope Gate. Every trace of anguish had gone from the old man's
face. To speak the truth he looked extremely well pleased with himself.

Harrison Smith walked slowly down Piccadilly debating in his mind
whether or no he should abandon his investigations.

He stopped a