“What is the meaning of this, Mr. Elk?” she demanded. She did not even attempt to appear surprised. “A friendly call—can I come in?” She opened the door wider, and Elk went in, followed by Gordon and two detectives. Dick she ignored. “I’m seeing the Commissioner to-morrow,” she said, “and if he doesn’t give me satisfaction I’ll get on to the newspapers. This persecution is disgraceful. To break into a single girl’s flat in the middle of the night, when she is alone and unprotected——” “If there is any time when a single girl should be alone and unprotected, it is in the middle of the night,” said Elk primly. “I’m just going to have a look at your little home, Lola. We’ve got information that you’ve been burgled, Lola. Perhaps at this very minute there’s a sinister man hidden under your bed. The idea of leaving you alone, so to speak, at the mercy of unlawful characters, is repugnant to our feelin’s. Try the dining-room, Williams; I’ll search the parlour—_and_ the bedroom.” “You’ll keep out of my room if you’ve any sense of decency,” said the girl. “I haven’t,” admitted Elk, “no false sense, anyway. Besides, Lola, I’m a family man. One of ten. And when there’s anything I shouldn’t see, just say ‘Shut your eyes’ and I’ll shut ’um.” To all appearances there was nothing that looked in the slightest degree suspicious. A bathroom led from the bedroom, and the bathroom window was open. Flashing his lamp along the wall outside, Elk saw a small glass spool attached to the wall. “Looks to me like an insulator,” he said. Returning to the bedroom, he began to search for the instrument. There was a tall mahogany wardrobe against one of the walls. Opening the door, he saw row upon row of dresses and thrust in his hand. It was the shallowest wardrobe he had ever seen, and the backing was warm to the touch. “Hot cupboard, Lola?” he asked. She did not reply, but stood watching him, a scowl on her pretty face, her arms folded. Elk closed the door and his sensitive fingers searched the surface for a spring. It took him a long time to discover it, but at last he found a slip of wood that yielded to the pressure of his hand. There was a “click” and the front of the wardrobe began to fall. “A wardrobe bed, eh? Grand little things for a flat.” But it was no sleeping-place that was revealed (and he would have been disappointed if it had been) as he eased down the “bed.” Set on a frame were row upon row of valve lamps, transformers—all the apparatus requisite for broadcasting. Elk looked, and, looking, admired. “You’ve got a licence, I suppose?” asked Elk. He supposed nothing of the kind, for licences to transmit are jealously issued in England. He was surprised when she went to a bureau and produced the document. Elk read and nodded. “You’ve got _some_ pull,” he said with respect. “Now I’ll see your Frog licence.” “Don’t get funny, Elk,” she said tartly. “I’d like to know whether you’re in the habit of waking people to ask for their permits.”