"I can't say I've thought about it seriously," confessed Joe. "I really don't see that I have much to fear--far less, anyway, than I have to fear from bank robbers and kiters--that's an American word for bank swindlers," he explained unnecessarily. "Inspector Teal, my very good friend, always says that violent crime is foreign to this country. A few attempts by dagoes and suchlike, perhaps, but they can easily be rounded up. It's just a coincidence that a threat should have come to me. One can understand them being sent to the others. Public men are bound to receive threatening letters, but they very rarely come to anything." Storm would have liked to point out the minor coincidences of alcohol diluted with aconite, and firework displays in Albany Court Yard and Hamilton Place, but refrained. "What's your honest opinion, Kit?" Susan persisted. "Oh, well, Mecklen's in hospital, and we've got Morini's description. There may be a bit of fun before he's found," he conceded easily, "but I don't think you need be afraid. I'd like you to stay with some friends of mine, though, while Hannassay's away. You don't want to be alone in that huge house--besides, it's so dull. You'll like 'em--Terry Mannering's a great lad. But don't go liking him too much, because he's already married!" "You needn't be afraid of that," she told him coldly, and did not realise for five minutes why he smiled. Blaythwayt pulled out his watch. "I'm afraid I really must be off, Captain Arden. It's nearly a quarter to three--please don't think I'm rude, my dear fellow, but Business..." When Joe Blaythwayt spoke of weighty matters he always gave the impression that he talked in capital letters. In Salisbury Square he inspected every inch of the silver Hirondel with an almost childish awe. "I wish I could afford a car like this," he said wistfully. "Can she Go?" "Go?" scoffed Storm. "She's the fastest thing on wheels that you can use on the road! I've tried her up to a hundred and fifteen at Brooklands." He had an inspiration. "Get in and let's have a run--I'll be taking Susan home, anyway." "Can we really?" said Joe, and Storm had shepherded him into the back seat before he had quite decided whether to accept the invitation. He had, apparently, forgotten the calls of Business. They whirled round Trafalgar Square, and Storm hesitated momentarily between Cockspur Street and the Mall. He decided on Cockspur Street, and to this day the thought of the far-reaching effects of that casual decision makes him gasp. Oscar Raegenssen, waiting for the arrival of his luxurious Navarre cabriolet, saw a man whom he particularly wished to avoid sauntering down from Pall Mall. He looked up and down the street, but there was no sign of his car. With a slight gesture of annoyance he started to cross the road.