“I am going into my room a few minutes before the messenger is due to arrive. I shall have both doors locked, that into the passage and that into this outer office. In the case of this door, I will leave the key on your side and ask you to lock me in. My object, of course, is to prevent a surprise. As soon as you hear a knock, and hear me rise and go to the door and unlock it, you will know that the visitor has arrived, and when the door closes again, I want you to station yourself outside in the corridor.” Parr nodded. “That seems simple,” he said. He walked to the window, looked out, and waved a handkerchief, and Yale smiled approvingly. “I see you have taken the necessary precautions. How many men have you?” “I think there are eighty,” said Mr. Parr calmly, “and they will practically surround the place.” Yale nodded. “We have to remember,” he said, “that the Crimson Circle may send a very ordinary district messenger, in which case, of course, he must be followed. I am determined that the money shall pass into the hands of the chief of the Crimson Circle himself--that is an essential.” “I quite agree,” said Parr, “but I have an idea that the gentleman, or whoever he is, will not come himself. May I look at your office?” He walked in and inspected the room. It was lighted by one window. In a corner was a cupboard, the door of which he opened. It was empty save for a hanging coat. “If you don’t mind,” Inspector Parr was almost humble, “I want you to stay in the outer office. Thank you, I’ll close the door on you. I get rattled if I am overlooked.” Laughingly Yale walked from the office, and Mr. Parr closed the door on him. He opened the second door, and looked out into the corridor. Presently they heard him close that also. “You can come in,” he said, “I’ve seen all I want.” The room was simply but comfortably furnished. There was a wide fireplace, in which, however, no fire burnt, although the day was chilly. “I don’t expect him to get up the chimney,” said Yale, humorously, as he noticed the detective’s inspection, “I never have a fire in this office; I’m one of those hot-blooded mortals who are never really cold.” Jack, a fascinated observer of the search, picked up the deadly little pistol that lay on the detective’s table, and examined it cautiously. “Be careful, that trigger is a little sensitive,” said Yale. He took from his pockets the envelope containing the notes, and laid them by the side of the weapon. Then he looked at his watch. “Now I think that to be on the safe side we should go to the other office, and lock the door,” he said. He accompanied his words by locking the door into the corridor. “It is rather thrilling,” whispered Jack. He felt that a whisper was the fitting tone for that exciting moment. “I hope it won’t be too thrilling,” said Yale. They went to the outer office, and turned the key on him, and sat down--Jack unconsciously on Thalia Drummond’s chair, a fact which he realised with a start.