“You will see that this is not touched,” he said to one of the men; and then to the other, “You had better go round to Vine Street and report this--stay, I will go myself.” As Jimmy and he stepped briskly in the direction of the historic police station, Angel expressed himself tersely. “Connor came on his own to burgle; he was surprised by a third party, who, thinking Connor was myself, shot him.” “That is how I read it,” said Jimmy. “But why did Connor come?” “I have been expecting Connor,” said Angel quietly. “He was not the sort of man to be cowed by the fear of arrest. He had got it into his head that I had got the secret of the safe, and he came to find out.” Inside the station the inspector on duty saluted him. “We have one of your men inside,” he said pleasantly, referring to the Frenchman; then, noticing the grave faces of the two, he added, “Is anything wrong, sir?” Briefly enough the detective gave an account of what had happened in Jermyn Street. He added his instructions concerning the table, and left as the inspector was summoning the divisional surgeon. “I wonder where we could find Spedding?” asked Angel. “I wonder where Spedding will find us?” added Jimmy grimly. Angel looked round in surprise. “Losing your nerve?” he asked rudely. “No,” said the cool young man by his side slowly; “but somehow life seems more precious than it was a week ago.” “Fiddlesticks!” said Angel. “You’re in love.” “Perhaps I am,” admitted Jimmy in a surprised tone, as if the idea had never occurred to him before. Angel looked at his watch. “Ten o’clock,” he said; “time for all good people to be in bed. Being myself of a vicious disposition, and, moreover, desirous of washing the taste of tragedy out of my mouth, I suggest we walk steadily to a place of refreshment.” “Angel,” said Jimmy, “I cannot help thinking that you like to hear yourself talk.” “I love it,” said Angel frankly. * * * * * In a little underground bar in Leicester Square they sat at a table listening to a little string band worry through the overture to _Lohengrin_. The crowded room suited their moods. Jimmy, in his preoccupation, found the noise, the babble of voices in many tongues, and the wail of the struggling orchestra, soothing after the exciting events of the past few hours. To Angel the human element in the crowd formed relaxation. The loud-speaking men with their flashy jewelry, the painted women with their automatic smiles, the sprinkling of keen-faced sharps he recognized, they formed part of the pageant of life--the life--as Angel saw it. They sat sipping their wine until there came a man who, glancing carelessly round the room, made an imperceptible sign to Angel, and then, as if having satisfied himself that the man he was looking for was not present, left the room again. Angel and his companion followed. “Well?” asked Angel. “Spedding goes to the safe to-night,” said the stranger. “Good,” said Angel.