There was a change in John Lexman. A subtle shifting of balance which was not readily discoverable. His face was older, the mobile mouth a little more grimly set, the eyes more deeply lined. He was in evening dress and looked, as T. X. thought, a typical, clean, English gentleman, such an one as any self-respecting valet would be proud to say he had “turned out.” T. X. looking at him carefully could see no great change, save that down one side of his smooth shaven cheek ran the scar of an old wound; which could not have been much more than superficial. “I must apologize for this kit,” said John, taking off his overcoat and laying it across the back of a chair, “but the fact is I was so bored this evening that I had to do something to pass the time away, so I dressed and went to the theatre--and was more bored than ever.” T. X. noticed that he did not smile and that when he spoke it was slowly and carefully, as though he were weighing the value of every word. “Now,” he went on, “I have come to deliver myself into your hands.” “I suppose you have not seen Kara?” said T. X. “I have no desire to see Kara,” was the short reply. “Well, Mr. Lexman,” broke in the Chief, “I don't think you are going to have any difficulty about your escape. By the way, I suppose it was by aeroplane?” Lexman nodded. “And you had an assistant?” Again Lexman nodded. “Unless you press me I would rather not discuss the matter for some little time, Sir George,” he said, “there is much that will happen before the full story of my escape is made known.” Sir George nodded. “We will leave it at that,” he said cheerily, “and now I hope you have come back to delight us all with one of your wonderful plots.” “For the time being I have done with wonderful plots,” said John Lexman in that even, deliberate tone of his. “I hope to leave London next week for New York and take up such of the threads of life as remain. The greater thread has gone.” The Chief Commissioner understood. The silence which followed was broken by the loud and insistent ringing of the telephone bell. “Hullo,” said Mansus rising quickly; “that's Kara's bell.” With two quick strides he was at the telephone and lifted down the receiver. “Hullo,” he cried. “Hullo,” he cried again. There was no reply, only the continuous buzzing, and when he hung up the receiver again, the bell continued ringing. The three policemen looked at one another. “There's trouble there,” said Mansus. “Take off the receiver,” said T. X., “and try again.” Mansus obeyed, but there was no response. “I am afraid this is not my affair,” said John Lexman gathering up his coat. “What do you wish me to do, Sir George?” “Come along to-morrow morning and see us, Lexman,” said Sir George, offering his hand. “Where are you staying!” asked T. X. “At the Great Midland,” replied the other, “at least my bags have gone on there.”