When, at the end of some fifteen or twenty minutes, she failed to reappear, he determined to take the initiative himself.  By intruding upon this prolonged conference he hoped to learn something of value.  Truth to tell, he was no master of finesse, and had but recently been promoted from an East End district where prompt physical action was of more value than subtlety.

As a result, then, he presently found himself in the presence of the immovable Hoskins; and having caused his name to be announced, he was requested to wait in the lobby for one minute.  Exactly one minute had elapsed when he was shown into that long, lofty room, which of late had been the scene of strange happenings.

Nicol Brinn was standing before the fireplace, hands clasped behind him, and a long cigar protruding from the left corner of his mouth.  No one else was present, so far as the detective could see, but he glanced rapidly about the room in a way which told the man who was watching that he had expected to find another present.  He looked into the unfathomable, light blue eyes of Nicol Brinn, and became conscious of a certain mental confusion.

“Good evening, sir,” he said, awkwardly.  “I am acting in the case concerning the disappearance of Mr. Paul Harley.”

“Yes,” replied Brinn.

“I have been instructed to keep an eye on these chambers.”

“Yes,” repeated the high voice.

“Well, sir”—­again he glanced rapidly about-"I don’t want to intrude more than necessary, but a lady came in here about half an hour ago.”

“Yes,” drawled Brinn.  “It’s possible.”

“It’s a fact,” declared the detective sergeant.  “If it isn’t troubling you too much, I should like to know that lady’s name.  Also, I should like a chat with her before she leaves.”

“Can’t be done,” declared Nicol Brinn.  “She isn’t here.”

“Then where is she?”

“I couldn’t say.  She went some time ago.”

Stokes stood squarely before Nicol Brinn—­a big, menacing figure; but he could not detect the slightest shadow of expression upon the other’s impassive features.  He began to grow angry.  He was of that sanguine temperament which in anger acts hastily.

“Look here, sir,” he said, and his dark face flushed.  “You can’t play tricks on me.  I’ve got my duty to do, and I am going to do it.  Ask your visitor to step in here, or I shall search the premises.”

Nicol Brinn replaced his cigar in the right corner of his mouth:  “Detective Sergeant Stokes, I give you my word that the lady to whom you refer is no longer in these chambers.”

Stokes glared at him angrily.  “But there is no other way out,” he blustered.

“I shall not deal with this matter further,” declared Brinn, coldly.  “I may have vices, but I never was a liar.”

“Oh,” muttered the detective sergeant, taken aback by the cold incisiveness of the speaker.  “Then perhaps you will lead the way, as I should like to take a look around.”