Pentecost said of course—anything he could do, and added that if the Inspector wanted to see Mr. Harker and his son Alfred—the two who were with him at the Haworth place—he could get them over that night; but he was told that such a thing was hardly necessary, as their testimony could be taken in New York if it came to that. “You got over here in quick time, Mr. Pentecost,” the Inspector was moved to say as the interview was coming to a close. “We have to thank you for that.” “It was my business that was worrying me—not yours,” Pentecost returned. “And now that you speak of it,” he went on, beginning to show eagerness again, “I was advised to consult you as to how I could get that machine out of the house. We’ve got a good-sized stack of money invested in it and I’d like to get it into a safe place.” “It’s perfectly safe where it is, Mr. Pentecost. We’ve got to hold it till we can see what bearing—if any—it has on the case. Good afternoon.” A plain-clothes man opened the door for him and Mr. Pentecost passed out. When the man turned back into the room the Inspector spoke quickly in an undertone: “Run out after him, Charlie, and keep him in sight till I get someone on the job. Keep your distance—don’t let him get wise to it.” The detective addressed as Charlie disappeared through the door. * * * * * The Inspector sat thinking a moment and then got to his feet and began pacing the room—a habit of his when hunting for the answer to something. He suddenly stopped and spoke to the plain-clothes man at the table who’d been taking down the conversation with Pentecost. “What did you think of that, Alec?” “Sounded nice an’ slick to me.” “Ever see him before?” “Not as I remember.” “Got an idea I have. Can’t place it. Going to put Loderer and Trench on him.” “Cinch on Findlay, ain’t it?” “What you might call that, but there’s one or two curious things about it—money gone—thirty-five thousand in bills—we can’t get that on Findlay.” “Nor on this man, either, that I can see. You can’t crack an alibi like that, with the Purser an’ all talking to ’im on the voyage. And on top of it he comes ashore from the steamer in New York this morning.” The inspector muttered, “Yes, I know,” absently, and was silent a moment, thinking. Finally he said with a slightly explosive effect: “God! I hope Bellinger gets the man that phoned in here last night!” “You mean about this Pentecost not being on board?” “Yes—and advising us to have the boat watched in New York.” “Nothing on it yet?” “Nothing to the good. We got the booth he phoned from and we picked up a man who saw a chap go into that booth about that time, but he couldn’t give a description except that he looked like a day laborer of some kind—so we don’t land anywhere.” “What booth was it?” “Nineteen——South Station.” PART VII