“Ah! and these Bond Street premises have been occupied by Kazmah for the past eight years?” “So I am told. I have yet to see representatives of the landlord. I may add that Sir Lucien Pyne had lived in Albemarle Street for about the same time.” Wearily raising his head: “The point is certainly significant,” said the Assistant Commissioner. “Now we come to the drug traffic, Chief Inspector. You have found no trace of drugs on the premises?” “Not a grain, sir!” “In the office of the cigarette firm?” “No.” “By the way, was there no staff attached to the latter concern?” Kerry chewed viciously. “No business of any kind seems to have been done there,” he replied. “An office-boy employed by the solicitor on the same floor as Kazmah has seen a man and also a woman, go up to the third floor on several occasions, and he seems to think they went to the Cubanis office. But he’s not sure, and he can give no useful description of the parties, anyway. Nobody in the building has ever seen the door open before this morning.” The Assistant Commissioner sighed yet more wearily. “Apart from the suspicions of Miss Margaret Halley, you have no sound basis for supposing that Kazmah dealt in prohibited drugs?” he inquired. “The evidence of Miss Halley, the letter left for her by Mrs. Irvin, and the fact that Mrs. Irvin said, in the presence of Mr. Quentin Gray, that she had ‘a particular reason’ for seeing Kazmah, point to it unmistakably, sir. Then, I have seen Mrs. Irvin’s maid. (Mr. Monte Irvin is still too unwell to be interrogated.) The girl was very frightened, but she admitted outright that she had been in the habit of going regularly to Kazmah for certain perfumes. She wouldn’t admit that she knew the flasks contained cocaine or veronal, but she did admit that her mistress had been addicted to the drug habit for several years. It began when she was on the stage.” “Ah, yes,” murmured the Assistant Commissioner; “she was Rita Dresden, was she not—_The Maid of the Masque?_ A very pretty and talented actress. A pity—a great pity. So the girl, characteristically, is trying to save herself?” “She is,” said Kerry grimly. “But it cuts no ice. There is another point. After this report was made out, a message reached me from Miss Halley, as a result of which I visited Mr. Quentin Gray early this morning.” “Dear, dear,” sighed the Assistant Commissioner, “your intense zeal and activity are admirable, Chief Inspector, but appalling. And what did you learn?” From an inside pocket Chief Inspector Kerry took out a plain brown paper packet containing several cigarettes and laid the packet on the table. “I got these, sir,” he said grimly. “They were left at Mr. Gray’s some weeks ago by the late Sir Lucien. They are doped.” The Assistant Commissioner, his head resting upon his hand, gazed abstractedly at the packet. “If only you could trace the source of supply,” he murmured.