“I wouldn’t say anything was impossible, sir,” he said, “but doesn’t it seem to you that all the evidence tends to support that idea? Every effort that we make to bring about the undoing of the Crimson Circle is anticipated. Somebody having access to the cell of Sibly, killed him. Who but a person having authority from head-quarters? Take the case of Froyant: there were a number of detectives on duty round and about the house; nobody apparently came in and nobody went out.” The Commissioner was calmer now. “Let us have this thing clear, Mr. Yale,” he said. “Are you accusing Parr?” Derrick Yale laughed and shook his head. “Why, of course not,” he said. “I cannot imagine Parr having a single criminal instinct. Only if you will think the matter out,” he leant over the table and lowered his voice, “and will go into every detail and every crime that the Crimson Circle has committed, you cannot fail to be struck by this fact: that, hovering in the background all the time was somebody in authority.” “Parr?” said the Commissioner. Derrick Yale bit his lower lip thoughtfully. “I don’t want to think of Parr,” he said. “I would rather think of him as being victimised by a subordinate he trusts. You quite understand,” he went on quickly, “that I should not hesitate to accuse Parr if my discoveries took me in that direction. I would not even free you, sir, from suspicion, if you gave me cause.” The Commissioner looked uncomfortable. “I can assure you that I know nothing whatever about the Crimson Circle,” he said gruffly, and realising the absurdity of his protest, laughed. “Who is that girl over there?” he pointed to a couple who were dining in a corner of the big restaurant. “She keeps looking across toward you.” “That girl,” said Mr. Derrick Yale carefully, “is a young lady named Thalia Drummond, and her companion, unless I am greatly mistaken, is the Honourable Raphael Willings, a member of the Government and one who has been threatened by the Crimson Circle.” “Thalia Drummond?” The Commissioner whistled. “Isn’t she the young person who was in very serious trouble some time ago? She was Froyant’s secretary, was she not?” The other nodded. “She is an enigma to me,” he said, shaking his head, “and the greatest mystery of all is her nerve. At this precise moment she is supposed to be sitting in my office answering telephone calls and dealing with any correspondence which may arrive.” “You employ her, do you?” asked the astonished Commissioner, and then with a little smile, “I agree with you about her nerve, but how does a girl of that class come to be acquainted with Mr. Willings?” Here Derrick Yale was not prepared to supply an answer. He was still sitting with the Commissioner when he saw the girl rise and, followed by her companion, walk slowly down the room. Her way led her past his table, and she met his enquiring glance with a smile and a little nod, and said something over her shoulder to the middle-aged man who was following her.