Jack was only too ready to depart. His admiration of O’Shea was something he could not hide, and, whilst he was no psychologist, this very hero worship inspired distrust--where Nanette was concerned. In other words, he was not clever enough to know that Nanette loved O’Shea, but he was modest enough to wonder how any girl could spare him an odd glance whilst O’Shea was present. Nanette’s vivacity became feverish. She literally danced down the stairs, calling farewells to everybody. But, finally, from a long way down: “Good-bye, Major O’Shea!” she cried. “Good-bye, Nanette,” he said, and shook Jack’s cordially extended hand. “Look after her, Kelton. She is well worth it.” “You’re right, sir!” Jack replied with enthusiasm--and was gone. “Now,” said O’Shea, and fixed one of his coldest stares upon me--“are the snapshots developed?” “Yes,” I replied, almost startled by his abrupt change of manner. “The prints came in this morning.” “And are there any of Adolf Zara, sir?” asked the inspector. “There is one. Unfortunately, his features are in shadow.” “Let me see,” said O’Shea. Once more my portfolio of snapshots was produced. “This could be enlarged,” said the inspector eagerly. “It is quite sharp.” “Does the face seem familiar?” O’Shea asked. “Vaguely. I think I have seen him somewhere. But it’s very much a case of a needle in a haystack. Of course, he’s far too clever to go to any of the known centres--always supposing he’s alive, and, being alive, that he’s in London.” “He is alive, and he is in London,” said I. “What!” O’Shea rapped out the word in a parade-ground voice. “How the devil do you know that, Decies?” In a very few sentences I told him. “That settles it,” said the inspector. “The rest is routine. Find the woman and your case is won.” O’Shea adjusted his monocle. It was a danger signal, but the Scotland Yard man was ignorant of this fact. “Explain yourself, inspector,” he directed, with ominous calm. “Well--it’s clear enough,” was the reply. “I shall insert a paragraph in the _Planet_, and when Mr. Zara turns up, he will be met by someone he’s not expecting.” “You will do nothing of the kind,” said O’Shea coldly. “The assistance of the Special Branch has been asked for because of the facilities that you possess in cases of this kind. But on no account must the name of any friend of mine be dragged into the matter.” The atmosphere grew oppressively electrical for a moment; then: “As you wish, sir,” returned the inspector. “But you are going to lose him.” “I trust not. But even so, I decline to use this lady’s name as a bait to trap Zara.”