"Right.... Oh, by the way, Chief, Lew went slinking out to a coffee-stall just before dawn--the darn chaw-bacon!--and he came back through the garage. He said there was somebody skulking round in the mews, and somebody else busy doing nothing in a doorway on the street outside. I don't see how the 'tecs could've got a line on us, but Lew swears to those two rubber-necks." "There wasn't anyone about when I came in." "Maybe it was just a couple of hoboes, boss. Lew ought to dilute it. Just thought I'd mention it." Morini appeared in the doorway again and beckoned the girl in. She entered with her head held high, walking as coolly as if she were strolling into a hat shop to take a look round. She only gave one glance to the furnishings of the room--enough to see that it had been fitted out into an exact replica, on a smaller scale, of the council hall in Lower Thames Street. Another thought occupied her mind. Two men had been stalking round the mews early that morning, if Lew were to be believed.... Already Storm was on the move, though she couldn't imagine how he had managed to locate the house of her imprisonment. That was an awkward snag in the way of rescue which hadn't occurred to her until that moment, and she was glad it hadn't cropped up before it had been surmounted. She had always been blessed with nerves of ice; even before the peril of Mecklen's innuendoes she hadn't wept or gone into hysterics or lashed around the cellar beating frantically on the walls in an ecstasy of terror, and, now that the clouds looked like breaking in the near future, her heart even sang a cheery refrain. Storm was getting busy, and Storm was no moss-harvester when the fur promised to fly. Susan smiled in confident bravado as she turned towards the daïs she knew she would see at the far end of the room. As in the sawmill, the huge emblem of the Triangle was suspended a little to one side of the throne; and, on the throne itself, sat a big built man, shabbily clad in rough grey tweeds. She did not recognise him, for a black felt hat was pulled down over his eyes and a black silk handkerchief folded diagonally was tied round his head, hiding his features from cheek bone to chin. All she could see of his face was the pale luminous glint of his blue eyes as he gazed fixedly at her. He sat back, with his gloved hands clasped on his knees, moveless as a sculpture in tinted marble. All those details she took in in that first fleeting glimpse. It was half a second later that she saw that the Triangle was not alone on the platform. Another man stood beside him.... It was an immaculately dressed man, tall and broad shouldered. One hand rested arrogantly on his hip, and he was smiling a trifle grimly. She recognised him with a thrill of amazement, which changed instantly to a qualm of incredulous fear....