He stood up and scrutinised the shelves. One row of leather-bound volumes struck him as being rather too good to be true, and he essayed to open the glass-fronted door in order to make a closer study, but found that it was fastened. Once again he had recourse to his wallet, and after a few minutes' work with a small steel instrument he had the case open. He now found that the row of books was simply a range of dummy backs, which he could pull wide like a second door, revealing a small cupboard. Within he brought to light what he had more or less expected--a phone transmitter mounted on a bracket, and a pair of radio headphones. These he removed, and then pushed back the secret door and, after some difficulty, relocked the case over it. The rest would keep; and he left the instruments on a chair and went back into the larger sitting-room, closing the partition door behind him. "What're we going to do with these people?" he interrogated the detective, and Teal spread out his hands. "Suspected of conspiracy--Vine Street _pro tem_. We didn't hear much of that broadcast sermon, but we did hear somebody telling 'em to express me to a better world," he added with grim amusement. Morini's hand went to his hip, and in answer to that movement Teal shifted something in his hand so that the light caught it. He did not seem to have stirred a fraction--his jaw still vacillated mechanically, and his tired eyes showed little sign of animation. But the fact remained that a wicked-looking Webley had flown into his right hand and was even then focused upon the gunman. To his concealed surprise, Morini smiled, and brought up his hand with nothing in it more lethal than a cigarette-case. "You're too suspicious, officer," Gat observed. "Shooting you with Captain Arden for a witness would be foolish. No. I was just about to point out that police stations and Flying Squad vans haven't exactly proved to be the real original cat's pyjamas so far, have they?" Storm conferred aside with the detective. "Would conspiracy to murder be a sound charge?" "Granted it only gets two of 'em--you've got special powers, haven't you?" "I doubt if my special powers'd be superior to a writ of _habeas corpus_" Storm objected. Teal shrugged. "It's worth trying," he said. "The only thing is, we'd have to send 'em to Pentonville right away--stations don't seem to hold 'em. Even if we put 'em in stir straight off, I shouldn't bet on their staying put--the Triangle might turn up with an amateur Army Corps and besiege the jail," he added morosely, and Storm laughed. "Pollyanna--you little ray of sunshine--shut up!"