"Ever since the stone left the Shan’s possession. Ever since then he has been dogged and watched. Let me go and call Hamid in to our discussion. He knows what has happened, for I scribbled a few lines on a sheet of paper just now when I left your wife, and handed it to one of the smaller spies who are loafing outside. The night is hot, and our absence will not be noticed. Now slip on our coats and assume to be going to smoke a cigar in the garden. From thence we reach Piccadilly by the back way, and surprise Hamid in his dreary vigil. Then he comes back with us here. What do you say?" Frobisher nodded gleefully; it was an intrigue after his own heart. They passed into the cool air of the garden, and from thence into the narrow lane at the back of the house. It was very late now, and Piccadilly was growing quiet, so that the few lounging figures there were easily seen. A slender, brown-faced man in a dust coat and evening dress came along smoking a cigarette. He did not appear to be in the least interested in anything only for his restless eyes. "I want you," Lefroy said. "There’s work to be done, Hamid." "Indeed, I am glad to hear that," said the other in a remarkably English tone of voice. "I’m getting sick to death of this eternal loafing. But Sir Clement Frobisher and Count Lefroy together! My dear Count, what are you doing in that galley?" "Any galley is good enough when your own has been temporarily wrecked," Lefroy growled. "But ask no questions for the present and come with us." They went back again presently in the smoking-room without having attracted the least attention, or so at least Sir Clement Frobisher flattered himself. It would never do for the Shan to know of Hamid Khan’s presence in the house. But there were other watchful eyes besides those of the Shan of Koordstan. Mrs. Benstein had seen the two men go into the garden, and she had seen three return. She was not quite quick enough to get sight of the third, but she had a pretty shrewd idea who he was. She waited till she could have a word with Angela. "I want you to do something for me, at once," she said. "Sir Clement Frobisher and Count Lefroy are in the private smoking-room with a third person. I want you to open the door and rush in with Sir Clement’s name upon your lips as if you are in a hurry for something. Then you can stammer an apology and close the door behind you. The great thing is to get a quick mental photograph of the third person." Angela nodded, she wasted no time in idle questions. In the most natural fashion she burst open the door and fluttered into the smoking-room, calling upon Frobisher as she did so. Then she stammered an apology and gently closed the door again. The third person had been seated directly opposite to her so that she had a perfect view of his face. "I see you were perfectly successful," Mrs. Benstein said.