“The prevalence of the drug habit in society—especially in London society—is a secret which has remained hidden so long from the general public,” she replied, “that one cannot help looking for bribery and corruption. The stage is made the scapegoat whenever the voice of scandal breathes the word ‘dope,’ but we rarely hear the names of the worst offenders even whispered. I have thought for a long time that the authorities must know the names of the receivers and distributors of cocaine, veronal, opium, and the other drugs, huge quantities of which find their way regularly to the West End of London. Pharmacists sometimes experience the greatest difficulty in obtaining the drugs which they legitimately require, and the prices have increased extraordinarily. Cocaine, for instance, has gone up from five and sixpence an ounce to eighty-seven shillings, and heroin from three and sixpence to over forty shillings, while opium that was once about twenty shillings a pound is now eight times the price.” Monte Irvin listened attentively. “In the course of my Guildhall duties,” he said slowly, “I have been brought in contact frequently with police officers of all ranks. If influential people are really at work protecting these villains who deal illicitly in drugs, I don’t think, and I am not prepared to believe, that they have corrupted the police.” “Neither do I believe so, Mr. Irvin!” said Margaret eagerly. “But,” Irvin pursued, exhibiting greater animation, “you inform me that a Home office commissioner has been appointed. What does this mean, if not that Lord Wrexborough distrusts the police?” “Well, you see, the police seemed to be unable, or unwilling, to do anything in the matter. Of course, this may have been due to the fact that the traffic was so skilfully handled that it defied their inquiries.” “Take, as an instance, Chief Inspector Kerry,” continued Irvin. “He has exhibited the utmost delicacy and consideration in his dealings with me, but I’ll swear that a whiter man never breathed.” “Oh, really, Mr. Irvin, I don’t think for a moment that men of that class are suspected of being concerned. Indeed, I don’t believe any active collusion is suspected at all.” “Lord Wrexborough thinks that Scotland Yard hasn’t got an officer clever enough for the dope people?” “Quite possibly.” “I take it that he has put up a secret service man?” “I believe—that is, I know he has.” Monte Irvin was watching Margaret’s face, and despite the dull misery which deadened his usually quick perceptions, he detected a heightened color and a faint change of expression. He did not question her further upon the point, but: “God knows I welcome all the help that offers,” he said. “Lord Wrexborough is your uncle, Miss Halley; but do you think this secret commission business quite fair to Scotland Yard?”