"Thank you, sir," the inspector of police chose a cigar with care. "It is about this Traction Company of your friend's--I think I remember you saying that you were not in the flotation yourself?" "No--I bought shares. I have a large number. What about it?" "Well, sir," said the inspector, speaking slowly, "I am afraid that matters are very serious--very serious indeed. The Public Prosecutor has taken action and a warrant has been issued." Steppe was prepared for this. "Have you the warrant?" The officer nodded. "Can it be put off until tomorrow?" "Absolutely impossible, sir. The best I can do is to defer its execution until late tonight. Even then I am taking a risk." Steppe tugged at his little beard. "Make it tonight," he said, "I'll undertake that he doesn't leave the country--you won't let him know, of course?" "No, sir." If Steppe had offered as much money as he could command to secure the escape of his victim, the bribe would have been rejected. But a postponement of arrest--that was another matter. "Thank you, inspector." "Thank you, sir; I shall put a couple of men on to watch him. I must do that, he will never know." Steppe went back to the dining room very much occupied. "No, I can't see anybody else--order the car. Who is he?" He took up the second card. "Mr. Jeremiah Talbot." The man who was concerned in the case where Ronald Morelle had figured so ingloriously. Perhaps he could tell him something about Ronnie? Something to his further discredit. "Bring him in," and when the dapper Mr. Talbot appeared: "I can give you two minutes, Mr.--er--Talbot." "I've come from a sense of duty," began the injured Jeremiah. "I'm certainly not going to be intimidated by threats from a beast like Ronald Morelle--" Steppe cut him short. "Is it about Ronald Morelle? I haven't time to go into your quarrels." "It is about Ronnie--and Beryl Merville." Jan Steppe gazed at the man moodily, then into the fire--then back to Jeremiah Talbot. "Sit down," he said. "Now--" Talbot told his story plainly and without trimmings, save that his hatred of Ronnie led him to digress from time to time. "You saw; you are certain?" "Absolutely, I ran down the stairs. There was a fellow taking photographs outside, a man with a brown beard--" Moropulos! And the photograph was that of Beryl Merville! "Go on." "That is all. I felt it my duty to tell you. If Ronald Morelle attempts to browbeat me, I'll give him in charge--" "All right--you can go. Thank you." Jan Steppe had his own peculiar views on women in general, the relationship of Beryl with Ronnie Morelle in particular. Things of that kind happened. He had thought some such affair was possible, and was neither shocked nor outraged. Beryl did not love him, he knew: she loved Morelle. He grinned wickedly. "The car, sir." His first call was at the registrar's office. The special license had been secured a week before.