It was his boast that he knew every bad man in London, and he was probably right. The morning following his discovery of the Alpha Triangle (already, with that queer instinct for the dramatic which few would have suspected beneath his prosaic exterior, he spelt it with capital letters) Inspector Teal flowed--there is no other word for his peculiar method of locomotion--in the direction of Kensington, for on the left-hand side of Church Street, behind a door over which hung three golden orbs, lived Mr. Eddie--more commonly known as "Snooper"--Brome. He was a big, florid, shock-headed man with an alarming taste in fancy waistcoats. Also the reputation of being a receiver of stolen goods. Mr. Teal considered himself lucky to find him in residence, for Snooper was a man of erratic habits and rarely attended to his business in person. "Good morning, Snooper," said Mr. Teal affably. "How's trade?" "Not too bad," said Snooper--trade, with him, was always either "not too bad" or "not too good"--"Have a cigar?" The sample he offered was undoubtedly a weed of great price, and Mr. Teal sniffed at it suspiciously. "Who gave you this?" he asked, and Snooper shook his head. "I cannot," he said unhappily, "get rid of the idea that you suspect me of being a receiver." "You might have made a worse guess," said Mr. Teal. "Quite easily. How are the crooks? Or is 'clients' the correct term? Comrades Lew and Gat are heading for trouble, you know." "Don't know 'em," said Eddie. "Interesting people, very," said Mr. Teal. "Especially the educated Gat. He has the most cherubic blue eyes. You'd love him." He stirred in his chair sluggishly. "By the way, Snooper, there's a friend of mine I'd like to bring along to meet you one day, if you'll let me know when you're at home. He's interested in criminals." Mr. Brome shrugged. "I'm afraid my acquaintance with the criminal fraternity won't help him. Still," he admitted, "like all pawn--er--financial agents, I have had stolen property offered to me. Naturally, I immediately notified the police." "On two occasions," supplemented Mr. Teal. "And the total value of the stuff was exactly two pounds five shillings and ten pence." "I can't help that. I wish it had been more," said Eddie piously. "I believe you," said Mr. Teal. He glanced round the room, his heavy-lidded eyes taking in afresh every familiar detail of unostentatious comfort--even luxury. There was no suggestion of wealth, but more than a hint of solid well-being. Looking merely at Snooper's waistcoats, one would never have suspected their inhabitant of possessing so artistically furnished a room. "You do rather well out of pawn--er--financial agenting," remarked Teal absently, and went off at an abrupt angle. "Are you the philanthropist who's financing Birdie Sands?" "Birdie's hands?" inquired the puzzled Mr. Brome. "Birdie Sands," Mr. Teal enunciated clearly and distinctly. "Strange as it may seem, I was once educated."