“Here is my superior now,” the Russian called, as Smith swung the door open. Smith’s face was grave. The Russian sensed that something had happened. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Have you found Spence?” “No,” said Smith. “But Mr. Spence just drove away post-haste in your cab, Mr. Breese. And when I called to him he seemed very anxious not to hear.” “I can’t understand it,” muttered Breese. “I can,” said the Russian. “Mr. Spence’s plans went slightly wrong. Mr. Smith threatened him with arrest. And you, Mr. Breese, threatened him with his life. Caught between the devil and the deep sea, he ran away.” “You think that I--I threatened him?” “Certainly.” “You must be mad! You must be!” “There’s an easy way of testing that,” challenged the Russian. “For example, if it should so happen that you carry a weapon at this moment, no jury would declare me mad for believing that you threatened your humble friend. Do you carry a revolver?” “I do carry a revolver,” Breese conceded hesitantly, after an uncomfortable pause. “Ah!” exclaimed the Russian. “I didn’t know where I was going. I took it along for protection.” “May I have that revolver?” Smith asked, extending his hand. Reluctantly the old man surrendered the weapon. “Thank you,” said Smith. “Now, Mr. Breese, I think you should know that I’ve gotten Spence’s full story,” Smith lied easily. “I was here before you came--and--there’s no use holding it back from you--he told me enough to warrant your arrest. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to go down to Headquarters with me.” “Arrest me--for what?” shouted the old man. “For the murder of your wife and the murder of Louis Trenholm.” The old man looked from Smith to the Russian, and then at me. “I suppose you’re all quite sane,” he said finally. “I may be mad myself. I shouldn’t wonder, with all I’ve been through. But just what is the reason for my arrest?” He was quite calm now, as if striving hard to maintain his composure in a bewildering situation. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” the Russian shook his head. “As far as I know there is not a single piece of evidence against you.” I could not believe my ears. Smith could only stare. “Look here----” bellowed Smith. The Russian held up his hand. “Not a word, Mr. Smith. I’ve led you astray. This is not our man. We’ve been fools--utter fools!” Then he muttered, “Bicycles! Wireless operator! Don’t you see?” He paced up and down excitedly. “It is incredible that I missed it. Utterly incredible. I am ashamed! I am senile!” Then suddenly he shouted: “Come--come before it is too late! Follow me!” He bounded out of the room. CHAPTER XXII THE MAN IN THE TAXI “Would you mind telling me--” the elder Breese was exasperatingly polite--“if your police department is composed solely of lunatics?”