“And so am I!” declared Mollie.  “It is perfectly sweet of you to take such an interest, and I feel a positive worm.  But what can I do?”

As Margaret was stepping into her little runabout car, which awaited her at the door, a theory presented itself to account for Mollie’s sudden hostility.  It had developed, apparently, as a result of Margaret’s reference to the Home office inquiry.  Of course!  Mollie would naturally be antagonistic to a commission appointed to suppress the drug traffic.

Convinced that this was the correct explanation, Margaret drove away, reflecting bitterly that she had been guilty of a strategical error which it was now too late to rectify.

In common with others, Kerry among them, who had come in contact with that perverted intelligence, she misjudged Mollie’s motives.  In the first place, the latter had no wish to avoid publicity, and in the second place—­although she sometimes wondered vaguely what she should do when her stock of drugs became exhausted—­Mollie was prompted by no particular animosity toward the Home office inquiry.  She had merely perceived a suitable opportunity to make the acquaintance of the fierce red Chief Inspector, and at the same time to secure notoriety for herself.

Ere Margaret’s car had progressed a hundred yards from the door, Mollie was at the telephone.

“City 400, please,” she said.

An interval elapsed, then: 

“Is that the Commissioner’s office, New Scotland Yard?” she asked.

A voice replied that it was.

“Could you put me through to Chief Inspector Kerry?”

“What name?” inquired the voice.

Mollie hesitated for three seconds, and then gave her family name.

“Very well, madam,” said the voice respectfully.  “Please hold on, and I will enquire if the Chief Inspector is here.”

Mollie’s heart was beating rapidly with pleasurable excitement, and she was as confused as a maiden at her first rendezvous.  Then: 

“Hello,” said the voice.

“Yes?”

“I am sorry, madam.  But Chief Inspector Kerry is off duty.”

“Oh, dear!” sighed Mollie, “what a pity.  Can you tell me where I could find him?”

“I am afraid not, madam.  It is against the rules to give private addresses of members of any department.”

“Oh, very well.”  She sighed again.  “Thank you.”

She replaced the receiver and stood biting her finger thoughtfully.  She was making a mental inventory of her many admirers and wondering which of them could help her.  Suddenly she came to a decision on the point.  Taking up the receiver: 

“Victoria 8440, please,” she said.

Still biting one finger she waited, until: 

“Foreign office,” announced a voice.

“Please put me through to Mr. Archie Boden-Shaw,” she said.

Ere long that official’s secretary was inquiring her name, and a moment later: