Phillopolis patronised a night-club in Soho, where he was usually to be found between midnight and two in the morning. Having an objective, Pinto felt in a happier frame of mine and walked briskly the intervening distance. He found his man sitting at a little marble-topped table by himself, contemplating a half-bottle of sweet champagne and a half-filled glass. He was evidently deep in thought, and started violently when Pinto addressed him. "Sit down," he said with evident relief. "I thought it was----" "Who did you think it was? You thought it was the police, I suppose?" said Pinto with heavy jocularity, and to his amazement he saw the little man wince. "What has happened to Colonel Boundary?" asked the Greek irritably. "There used to be a time when anybody he spoke for was safe. I'm getting out of this country and I'm getting out quick," he added. "Why?" asked Pinto, who was vitally interested. The Greek threw out his hands with a little grimace. "Nerves," he said. "I haven't got over that affair with the White girl." "Pooh!" said the other. "If the police were moving in that matter, they'd have moved long ago. You are worrying yourself unnecessarily, Phillopolis." Pinto's words slipped glibly from his tongue, but Phillopolis was unimpressed. "I know when I've had enough," he said. "I've got my passport and I'm clearing out at the end of this week." "Does the colonel know this?" The Greek raised his shoulders indifferently. "I don't know whether he does or whether he doesn't," he said. "Anyway, Boundary and I are only remotely connected in business, and my movements are no affair of his." He looked curiously at the other. "I wonder that a man like you, who is in the heart of things, stays on when the net is drawing round the old man." "Loyalty is a vice with me," said Pinto virtuously. "Besides, there's no reason to bolt--as yet." "I'm going whilst I'm safe," said Phillopolis, sipping his champagne. "At present the police have nothing against me and I'm going to take good care they have nothing. That's where I've the advantage of people like you." Pinto smiled. "They've nothing on me," he said easily. "I have an absolutely clean record." It disturbed him, however, to discover that even so minor a member of the gang as Phillopolis was preparing to desert what he evidently regarded as a sinking ship. More than this, it confirmed him in the wisdom of his own precautions, and he was rather glad that he had taken it into his head to visit Phillopolis on that night. "When do you leave?" he asked. "The day after to-morrow," said Phillopolis. "I think I'll go down into Italy for a year. I've made enough money now to live without worrying about work, and I mean to enjoy myself." Pinto looked at the man with interest. Here, at any rate, was one without a conscience. The knowledge that he had accumulated his fortune through the miseries of innocent girls shipped to foreign dance halls did not weigh greatly upon his mind.