"Get back to the Yard and send an all-station call for Morini and John," instructed Storm. "Send Henderson up here for the rest of the night, and tell Rankin to be ready to relieve him at eight to-morrow. Find out where they took Mecklen, and ring me here. I'll wait till Henderson arrives.... There mayn't be another attempt to-night, but if there are any strategists on the staff of the Triangle there may be. Oh, and tell Henderson to bring some burglarious gadgets along with him--I want to see if that safe's all right. I can't get in through the window--there's a patent fastening inside, and not enough handhold outside for an athletic fly." When the detective had gone, he made a careful round of the room, but found nothing. Then he turned to the girl. "I don't know what it is you're supposed to have discovered," he said, "but there's a bad hombre in the background who seems to think you spoil the view! Can you remember anything unusual you've come across in Hannassay's papers?" She thought for a moment. "No.... Well, yes, a few days ago he made me search his files for something about a man named Mattock. Somebody who forged a cheque with Lord Hannassay's signature and was caught and sent to prison." "Did you mention that to anyone?" "I did, as a matter of fact, though I suppose I shouldn't have. It was an uncle of mine on my mother's side--I didn't know where he was, but in the City the other day I ran into Uncle Joe and he made me have lunch with him. He always was interested in crime, and of course he started talking about it almost immediately. Then I happened to mention Mattock's dossier, and he seemed awfully interested--but Uncle Joe's interested in the weirdest things." "Uncle Joe who?" Storm asked. "Blaythwayt. He's got a job as manager----" "Of the City and Continental Bank, Lombard Street, which same firm is honoured with the account of Olaf the Seabird. Je-rusalem! Things do run in circles! Why isn't this Regent's Park?" Just before Henderson arrived a call came through on the upstairs telephone, and Storm learned that Lew Mecklen had been taken to St. George's Hospital suffering from nothing more serious than a flesh wound in the thigh, and that a detective was already guarding him. So far he had refused to make any statement. "I'll see him first thing to-morrow," said Storm. "Get hold of the Assistant Commissioner. Lew must be charged to-morrow morning." He shook hands with Henderson and led the way upstairs. From the detective he received a small leather wallet of fine steel tools and reviewed them critically. "Anyone might think I was going to smash a strongroom," he murmured. "Gather round for a demonstration of expert yeggship!" It took him only a couple of minutes to manipulate the lock, and then he straightened himself and pushed open the door. The safe was untouched, and nothing appeared to have been disturbed.