“Yes,” he said.  “I’ll take you part of the way.  Tell your father, Miss Forbes, that you will arrive at London Bridge at 8:40.  If you two reach London by a different route I think you should be tolerably safe.”

“If any Chinaman shows up between here and Fortescue Square I’ll shoot him at sight,” Theydon said, producing an automatic pistol.

“I wouldn’t do that,” smiled Winter.  “You might bore a hole in some perfectly innocent Celestial.  But you won’t be troubled.  Wong Li Fu carries out his own plans, and at present he is congratulating himself on the possession of a valuable hostage.  But, come along!  How about a wrap for you, Miss Forbes?  We’ll create a breeze, you know.”

She ran into her mother’s bedroom and came out with a fur coat and motor veil, articles which, she had guessed correctly, her mother would not be wearing for the short run to Beachy Head.  The hotel manager lent coats to the men, and they started, not without hearty congratulations from several people in the porch, whose fears on Mrs. Forbes’s account Theydon had dissipated when he went out to order the car.

Winter gave their thoughts a new direction when Theydon inquired what means the authorities would adopt to rid the country of the pestiferous gang which carried on its vendetta with such scant respect for the law and order of Great Britain.

“Once we have Mr. and Mrs. Forbes and this young lady safely housed in Fortescue Square, and protected, not only by their own servants but by the Metropolitan Police, we will devote ourselves to routing out the whole crew,” he announced.  “My idea is that when we lay hands on the ringleader, the rest will be easy.  Furneaux’s prisoner, Len Shi, may be got to talk when a Chinese interpreter tackles him.  Again, there is every prospect of an important capture being made in the Croydon house.  Most important of all is the prolonged absence from the yard of Furneaux.  He is busy, or he would have put in an appearance there hours ago, if only to get to know my whereabouts.  That means something.  Furneaux never wastes time.  Usually we hunt in couples.  Today, by the fortune of war, we are separated, and perhaps fortunately so.  It is all your fault, Mr. Theydon.”

“Mine?” was the astonished cry.

“Yes.  We had to try all sorts of tricks on you before you would speak.  Just imagine Scotland Yard being compelled to tap the telephone of a respectable and well-known author before he would own up to such knowledge as he possessed of the murder in No. 17!”

So that was how Furneaux had played the necromancer, and was able to mystify Theydon that morning.

The chief inspector, by raising the question, was touching on dangerous ground, as he was well aware, but he was determined now that all barriers should be thrown down.  Evelyn Forbes was no bread-and-butter miss from whose cognizance the evil things of life must be sedulously averted.  A, woman of spirit and intelligence, who had already run the dreadful risk of sharing Mrs. Lester’s fate, should be made to understand every phase of the difficulty with which the Criminal Investigation Department had yet to deal.