“He dare not change that, but he will change mine. Don’t you see what a chance this gives to you?” The inspector was a little sceptical. Nevertheless, after Brabazon had been locked in the cell, he called up Froyant on the ’phone and told him as much of what had happened as was necessary for him to know. “You’ve got the money?” said Froyant eagerly. “Come up to the house at once.” “I’ll bring it up to the house with pleasure,” replied Parr, “but I feel I ought to warn you that this is not your money, although it is the actual cash that was transferred by you to the Crimson Circle.” Later on, in Mr. Froyant’s presence, he explained the situation. That spare man made no attempt to hide his disappointment, for he seemed to think that in whatever circumstances the money was recovered, he was entitled to claim. After a while Inspector Parr got him into a more reasonable frame of mind. Froyant was talking quite calmly on the matter, when he suddenly broke off with the question: “Have you the numbers of the notes which Brabazon handed to him?” “They are easy to remember,” said Parr, “they belong to a series,” and he recited the numbers, Mr. Froyant making a rapid note on his desk-pad. Chapter XXVI. The Bottle of Chloroform Thalia Drummond was writing a letter when her visitor arrived, and of the many people whom Thalia expected to call, Millie Macroy was the last. The girl looked ill and tired, but she was not so far from human that she could not stand and admire the dainty drawing-room into which Thalia showed her, her servant having gone home for the night. “Why this is a palace, kid,” she said, and regarded Thalia with reluctant admiration. “You know how to do it all right, better than poor ‘Flush.’” “And how is the elegant ‘Flush’?” asked Thalia coolly. Millie Macroy’s face darkened. “See here,” she said roughly, “I don’t want any kind of talk about ‘Flush’ in that tone, do you understand? He is where _you_ ought to be. You were in it as well as him.” “Don’t be silly. Take off your hat and sit down. Why, it’s like old times seeing you, Macroy.” The girl grumbled something under her breath, but accepted the invitation. “It is about ‘Flush’ I want to see you,” she said. “There’s some talk of framing a murder charge against him, but you know he didn’t commit any murder.” “I know? Why should I know?” asked Thalia. “I didn’t even know that he was in the house until I read the newspapers in the morning--how wonderfully clever they are on the Press to get news so red-hot.” Milly Macroy had not come to discuss the enterprise of the Press. She drove straight into her subject, which was, as Thalia had expected, “Flush” Barnet and his immediate prospects. “Drummond, I’m not going to quarrel with you,” she said. “I’m glad of that,” said Thalia. “I can’t exactly see what there is to quarrel about, anyway.”