But Smith entered, apologetic, doubtful.

“Mr. Holden is here, sir, and says he wishes to see you immediately.”

Holden’s news was important.  Capella had left Liverpool Street half an hour ago for Beechcroft, and in the same train travelled Ooma.

“Are you sure of this?” demanded Brett, excitedly springing from his chair.

“Quite certain, sir.  Mr. Winter’s mate followed him to the station, and told me who the Japanese was.  Besides, no one could mistake him who had ever seen either of these two gentlemen.”

He indicated Robert and David.

“Quick,” shouted the barrister.  “We must all catch the next train to Stowmarket.  Winter, have you your handcuffs?  This time they may be needed.  Smith, run and call two hansoms.”

He rushed to a bureau and produced a couple of revolvers.  He handed one to Holden.

“I can trust you,” he said, “not to fire without reason.  Do not shoot to kill.  If this man threatens the life of any person, maim him if possible, but try to avoid hitting him in the head or body.”

To the Frazers he handed the heaviest sticks he possessed.  He himself pocketed the second revolver, and picked up the peculiar walking-stick which Ooma dropped in Northumberland Avenue.

“Now,” he said, “let us be off.  We have no time to lose, and we must get to Beechcroft with the utmost speed.”

Winter and he entered the same hansom.

“Why are you so anxious to prevent Capella and Ooma meeting, sir?” asked the detective, as their vehicle sped along Victoria Street.

“I do not care whether they meet or not,” was the emphatic reply.  “It is now imperatively necessary that the Japanese should be placed where he can do no further harm.  The man is a human tiger.  He must be caged.  If all goes well, Winter, this case will pass out of my hands into yours within the next three hours.”

The detective smiled broadly.  At last he saw his way clearly, or thought he saw it, which is often not quite the same thing.  In the present instance he little dreamed the nature of the path he would follow.  But he was so gratified that he could not long maintain silence, though Brett was obviously disinclined to talk.

“By Jove,” he gurgled, “this will be the case of the year.”

The barrister replied not.

“I suppose, Mr. Brett,” continued Winter, with well-affected concern, “you will follow your usual policy, and decide to keep your connection with the affair hidden?”

“Exactly, and you will follow your usual policy of claiming all the credit under the magic of the words ‘from information received.’”

Winter could afford to be generous.

“Mr. Brett,” he cried, “there is no man would be so pleased as I to see you come out of your shell, and tell the Court all you have done.  You deserve it.  It would be the proudest moment of your life.”

Then the barrister laughed.