“He’s kept his room on?” Desmond almost shouted. “Then all is not lost. Wait here a second!” He darted away, and presently Francis heard him telephoning in one of the inner rooms. “You’ve no idea what a day I’ve had,” said Francis when his brother came back. “Professional secrecy is a tremendously effective cover against indiscreet inquiries. Young Deinwitz, in whom, of course, I recognized Clubfoot’s aide, Heinrich, seems to have subtly conveyed to the fellow who runs this nursing-home that his father was on the verge of lunacy. Naturally the matron and all of them shut up like oysters when I came barging in with direct questions at the front door. I had to get a letter of introduction from a pal of mine in Harley Street before I finally got into the place. I flatter myself I was rather good as a nerve specialist from Sheffield with a rich patient to ‘place’ . . .” Desmond laughed happily. “Disguise, eh?” “Only cheek pads and a toupet! But what are you looking so cheerful about? Old Clubfoot has given us the slip properly this time . . .” Desmond slipped his arm in his brother’s. “Come inside and meet Sergeant Rushbrooke,” he said. Francis found that the girl’s body had been taken away, but otherwise no attempt had been made to repair the disorder of the rooms. In an armchair in the sitting-room was a fresh-faced, blue-eyed young man whom Desmond introduced as Sergeant Rushbrooke. A bell pealed through the flat. “Bannington!” announced Desmond, and hurried to the front door. “I got your telephone message,” said the Air Marshal, coming into the sitting-room. “Have you any news for me, Okewood? My God, this suspense is awful!” He held out two trembling hands towards the young man. Desmond was fumbling in the inside pocket of his coat. He drew forth a thick wad of blue foolscap, folded twice across, which he handed to his visitor. Bannington snatched at it and, with an eagerness that was almost painful to behold, unfolded it, scrutinized it. “By the Lord! You’ve saved me!” he gasped and dropped limply into a chair. “How can I ever thank you, Okewood? Man alive, it’s a miracle! Tell me all about it!” “Des.!” exclaimed Francis. Sergeant Rushbrooke opened wide his blue eyes. “You didn’t say anything about this to me, sir,” he observed in rather a ruffled tone. “You won’t be kept in suspense much longer, Sergeant,” said Desmond, and glanced at his watch.