"Margot's crew, of course. And he must have guessed that something of the sort would happen _some_ time if he stopped there after that Silver Snare business at Roehampton--either from her lot or from the followers of that Mauravanian johnnie who was at the back of it. They were after him even in that little game, those two. I wonder why? What the dickens, when one comes to think of it, could have made the Prime Minister of Mauravania interest himself in an Apache trick to 'do in' an ex-cracksman? Gad! she flies high, sometimes, that Margot! Prime Minister of Mauravania! And the fool faced fifteen years hard to do the thing and let her get off scot free! Faced it and--took it; and is taking it still, for the sake of helping her to wipe off an old score against a reformed criminal. Wonder if Cleek ever crossed _him_ in something? Wonder if he, too, was on the 'crooked side' once, and wanted to make sure of its never being shown up? Oh, well, he got his medicine. And so, too, will this unknown murderer who's doing the secret killing in London, now that this Clarges Street affair is over. Bully old Cleek! Slipped 'em again! Had their second shot and missed you! Now you'll come out of hiding, old chap, and we shall have the good old times once more." His eye fell upon the ever-ready telephone. He stopped short in his purposeless walking and nodded and smiled to it. "We'll have you singing your old tune before long, my friend," he said, optimistically. "I know my man--gad, yes! He'll let no grass grow under _his_ feet now that this thing's over. I shall hear soon--yes, by James! I shall." His optimism was splendidly rewarded. Not, however, from the quarter nor in the manner he expected. It had but just gone half-past seven when a tap sounded, the door of his office swung inward, and the porter stepped into the room. "Person wanting to speak with you, sir, in private," he announced. "Says it's about some Personal in the morning paper." "Send him in--send him in at once!" rapped out Narkom excitedly. "Move sharp; and don't let anybody else in until I give the word." Then, as soon as the porter had disappeared, he crossed the room, twitched the thick curtains over the window, switched on the electric light, wheeled another big chair up beside his desk and, with face aglow, jerked open a drawer and got out a cigarette box which had not seen the light for weeks. Quick as he was, the door opened and shut again before the lid of the box could be thrown back, and into the room stepped Cleek's henchman--Dollops. "Hullo! You, is it, you blessed young monkey?" said Narkom gayly, as he looked up and saw the boy. "Knew I'd hear to-day--knew it, by James! Sent you for me, has he, eh? Is he coming himself or does he want me to go to him? Speak up, and--Good Lord! what's the matter with you? What's up? Anything wrong?" Dollops had turned the colour of an under-baked biscuit and was looking at him with eyes of absolute despair.