The Irishman gave a light, derisive laugh.  Shifting uneasily in his chair, the man in the checked suit flushed darkly, then stiffened his spine, hardened his eyes, set his jaw, and faced Number One defiantly.

“You ’eard ...  I ’olds by w’at I said.”

“I am to understand, then, you think it time for me to abdicate and let another lead you in my stead?”

The Englishman assented with an inarticulate monosyllable and a surly nod.

“And may one ask why?”

“Blue’s plice in Pekin Street was r’ided this afternoon,” Seven announced truculently.  “But per’aps you didn’t know—­”

“Not until some time before the news reached you,” One replied, pleasantly.  “And what of it?”

“Three fycers in a week, Gov’ner—­anybody’ll tell you that’s comin’ it a bit thick.”

“Granted.  What then?”

“That’s only part of it.  Tike last week:  Eighteen pinched, the queer plant in ’Igh Street pulled by the coppers—­”

“I know, I know.  To your point!”

Seven hesitated under that steely stare.  “I leave it to you, Gov’ner,” he continued to stammer at length.  “S’y you was me and I was Number One—­w’at would you think?”

“Why, quite naturally, that some superior intelligence has latterly been collaborating with Scotland Yard.”

“Aren’t you a bit behindhand in arriving at that conclusion?” the Irishman suggested with an ill-dissembled sneer.

“No, Eleven,” Number One replied, mildly, “since I arrived at it some time since.”

“But took no measures—­”

“You are in a position to state that as a fact?”

Eleven shrugged lightly.  “Need I be?  Does not our situation speak for itself?”

“Since you cannot be as thoroughly acquainted as I am with the situation, and since it seems I am required to account for my leadership or surrender it to you, Eleven ...  I believe you have selected yourself to replace me as Number One, have you not?—­that is to say, in the improbable event of my abdication.”

“Improbable?” repeated the Irishman.  “I wouldn’t call it that.”

“You are right,” Number One assented, gravely:  “unthinkable is the word.  But you haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh, as for that, if the Council should see fit to appoint me Number One, I’d naturally do my best.”

“And most noble of you, I’m sure.  But rather than bring down any such disaster upon this organization, I will say now that measures have already been taken, and I am to-night in a position to promise you that the new spirit in Scotland Yard will no longer be a factor in our calculations.”

“That wants proving,” Eleven contended.

A spasm of anger shook the figure in the throne-like chair, but only for an instant; immediately the iron will of the man imposed rigid self-control; almost without pause he proceeded in level and civil accents: 

“I think I can satisfy you and—­this once—­I consent to do so.  But first, a question:  Have you yourself formed any theory as to the identity of this hostile intelligence which has so hindered us of late?”