As he read, an idea took shape. Ten thousand pounds and a free pardon! It was by no means sure that he would escape in the morning; more likely was it that he would be detected, and at best what would his life be? The life of a hunted dog, for which even his money would not compensate him. Ten thousand pounds and freedom! And nobody knew about the money that he had tricked from Felix Marl’s estate. He would put that in a safe deposit in the morning, go straight to police head-quarters with information which he felt sure must lead to the Crimson Circle’s undoing. “I’ll do it,” he said aloud. “I think you’re very wise.” The voice was at his elbow and he swung round. A little, stocky man had walked noiselessly behind him in his rubber-soled shoes, and Brabazon recognised him instantly. “Inspector Parr,” he gasped. “That’s right,” said the inspector. “Now, Mr. Brabazon, will you come a little walk with me, or are you going to make trouble?” As they went into the police-station, a woman came out, and the pallid Brabazon failed to recognise his former clerk. He stood in the steel pen whilst the story of his iniquities was told in the cold, official language of the warrant. “You can save yourself a lot of trouble, Mr. Brabazon,” said Inspector Parr, “by telling me the truth. I know where you are staying--at Bright’s Hotel in the Euston Road. You arrived there late last night and your passage is booked in the name of Thomson to New Zealand by the _Itinga_, which is due to leave Victoria Dock to-morrow morning.” “Good God!” said the startled Brabazon. “How did you know that?” But here Inspector Parr did not inform him. Brabazon did not intend lying. He told everything he knew. All that had happened from the moment he was called by telephone and told to make a get-away, until he was arrested. “So you were in the house all the time?” said the inspector thoughtfully. “How did you come to escape Mr. Yale’s search?” “Oh, was it Yale?” said Brabazon. “I thought it was you. There was an inner room--just a little storehouse, I think it was in the old times--I got behind the door and hid. He came almost to the door. I nearly died with fright.” “So Yale was right again. You were there!” said the inspector speaking half to himself. “Now, what are you going to do about it, Brabazon?” “I’m going to tell you all I know about the Crimson Circle, and I think I can give you information which will lead to his arrest. But you’ll have to be smart.” He was recovering something of his old pomposity, Parr observed. “I told you that he exchanged my notes for his, and his notes for mine. I’m sure he did that because he was afraid of the numbers being taken, but my notes were in a series--series E.19, and I can give you the number of every one of them,” he went on easily. “He wouldn’t change the stuff he got.” “That was Froyant’s money, I think,” said the inspector. “Yes, go on.”