He stepped directly in front of the bonnet of Storm's car. The fine drizzle that was falling lay on the road like thin oil, and Storm knew at once that it would be impossible to pull up in time on the treacherous surface, for he was doing over thirty miles an hour. He wrenched the wheel over to the right as he braked, and one wing just caught Raegenssen as the Hirondel skidded round. Luckily the street was almost deserted, and the silver car turned completely round in a space of feet and fetched up against the kerb, facing back towards Trafalgar Square. It was a magnificent piece of driving, but the most masterly driver in the world could not have saved Raegenssen from that blow. Storm jumped from his seat and ran towards the stunned man, an excited Joe hard on his heels. He picked the Swede up in his arms and carried him to the pavement. He was loosening the clothes about Raegenssen's throat, with Blaythwayt trying ineffectually to assist, when a tall, oldish man elbowed his way through the crowd and knelt down beside him. "Your boss, Mattock," remarked Storm briefly. Raegenssen was not badly hurt. He was even then recovering consciousness. His eyelids flickered dazedly, and his lips framed an almost inaudible word. "_Sylvia ... Sylvia..._" "He's coming round," said Storm to the constable who had joined the group. "He stepped out right in front of me without looking where he was going, but I only grazed him." "This gentleman is Captain Arden of the Special Branch," announced Blaythwayt pompously. Storm was searching in his pockets for a card, and Susan saw that his jaw was tightened up so that the muscles stood out in faintly serrated knots, and his eyes were abnormally level. Wondering, she looked at the others. Joe Blaythwayt was standing by importantly with a broad smile on his face, and yet he was trembling with excitement. Mattock had looked up from applying first aid to his employer, and was staring at one of the other two--she could not be sure which. His features were contorted, his mouth working, and there was a blaze in his eyes that set her heart pounding against her ribs like a trip-hammer. CHAPTER VI IMMIGRATION OF THE UNGODLY Storm breakfasted with Hannassay on the morning his lordship left for his holiday. It was an unexpected invitation, but Lord Hannassay came to the reason of it without delay. "I have made arrangements for you to be given complete charge of the case," he said. "You will probably get the official intimation when you reach the Yard." His usual abruptness of manner was conspicuously absent. He spoke restrainedly and rather artificially, like a man who has planned out his speech in advance and intends to adhere rigidly to a premeditated sequence of words.