“I know you will,” she said between her chattering teeth. “Get me to your house, please.” He left Elk to go to Fleet Street to collect every scrap of information about the murder he could from the newspaper offices, and brought the girl back to Harley Terrace. As he got out of the cab, he saw a man waiting on the steps. It was Joshua Broad. One glance at his face told Dick that he knew of the murder, and he guessed the source. He waited in the hall until Dick had put the girl in the study, and had collected every illustrated newspaper, every book he could find. “Lola told me of this business.” “I guessed so,” said Dick. “Do you know anything about it?” “I knew these two men started out in the disguise of tramps,” said Broad, “but I understood they were going north. This is Frog work—why?” “I don’t know. Yes, I do,” Dick said suddenly. “The Frog came to Miss Bennett last night and asked her to marry him, promising that he would save her brother if she agreed. But it can hardly be that he planned this diabolical trick to that end.” “To no other end,” said Broad coolly. “You don’t know Frog, Gordon! The man is a strategist—probably the greatest strategist in the world. Can I do anything?” “I would ask you to stay and keep Miss Bennett amused——” Dick began. “I think you might do worse,” said the American quietly. Ella looked up with a look of pain as the visitor entered the room. She felt that she could not endure the presence of a stranger at this moment, that she would break under any new strain, and she glanced at Dick imploringly. “If you don’t want me to stay, Miss Bennett,” smiled Broad, “well, I’ll go just as soon as you tell me. But I’ve one piece of information to pass to you, and it is this: that your brother will not die.” His eyes met Dick Gordon’s, and the Prosecutor bit his lip to restrain the cry that came involuntarily. “Why?” she asked eagerly, but neither of the men could tell her. Dick telephoned to the garage for his car, the very machine that Ray Bennett had driven the first day they had met. His first call was at the office of the Public Prosecutor, and to him he stated the facts. “It is a most remarkable story, and I can do nothing, of course. You’d better see the Secretary of State at once, Gordon.” “Is the House of Commons sitting, sir?” “No—I’ve an idea that the Secretary, who is the only man that can do anything for you—is out of town. He may be on the Continent. I’m not sure. There was a conference at San Remo last week, and I’ve a dim notion that he went there.” Dick’s heart almost stood still. “Is there nobody else at the Home Office who could help?” “There is the Under Secretary: you’d better see him.” The Public Prosecutor’s Department was housed in the Home Office building, and Dick went straight away in search of the responsible official. The permanent secretary, to whom he explained the circumstances, shook his head.