He mounted the carpeted stairs, opened the door of his flat and closed it carefully behind him. He went straight to his study, pulled down the blinds and drew the thick curtains across the windows, then he turned on the light, took up the telephone and gave a Treasury number. “Is that Sergeant Pears?” he asked. “Is there a telegram waiting at the Yard for me?” “Yes, sir,” said the sergeant’s voice. Michael winked at the wall. “Do you mind opening and reading it?” There was a little pause and then the sergeant repeated into the receiver: “To Inspector Michael Pretherston, Scotland House. Come up by the earliest train. Am staying at Adelphi. T.B.” “Handed in at Manchester, I suppose?” “Yes, sir,” said the sergeant, “at three-fifteen.” “Is the chief in Manchester?” “Yes, sir; he went by the morning train.” “Excellent,” said Michael, “thank you very much, sergeant.” He hung up the receiver. This was Kate’s work--the beautiful detail of it, the knowledge she possessed of T.B. Smith’s movement. She had probably sent a man up on the same train with the chief and had given him the telegram in advance, with exact instructions as to the minute it was to be handed in. Yes, it was Kate. Yet (he became uncomfortable at the thought) it was not like her to leave things to chance. How came she to miss him at the Yard? He returned to the telephone and again called up his assistant. “What time did the telegram arrive?” he asked. The sergeant’s voice was apologetic. “I am very sorry, sir, I am afraid it arrived while you were here, this afternoon. It was given to a messenger to take in to you and in some extraordinary way the constable forgot it. I have reprimanded him.” “That’s all right,” said Michael, relieved. His relief, curiously founded, he might have found it difficult to explain. It was the relief which the matador feels when he sees the bull, which steps so proudly into the ring, will put up a good fight. It was the relief of the huntsman when a strong fox breaks from covert. He wanted Kate and that extraordinary organization, which he had set himself to conquer, to be at its best that his victory might be the more satisfactory.