Davidge suddenly rose from his chair, nudging Triffitt as he moved. He laughed--and the laugh made Burchill start to his feet. "You needn't trouble yourself, Mr. Burchill!" said Davidge. "Much obliged to you for your talk, there's nothing like letting some folks wag their tongues till they're tired. I know who murdered Jacob Herapath as well as you do, and who your Mr. X. is. Jacob Herapath, gentlemen," he added, turning to his astonished listeners, "was shot dead and robbed by his office manager, James Frankton, and if James Frankton's eating his Sunday supper in peace and quietness, it's in one of our cells, for I arrested him at seven o'clock this very evening--and with no help from you, Mr. Burchill! I'm not quite such a fool as I may look, my lad, and if I made one mistake when I let you slip I didn't make another when I got on the track of the real man. And now, ma'am," he concluded, with an old-fashioned bow to Mrs. Engledew, "there's no more to be said--by me, at all events, and I've the honour to wish you a good night. Mr. Triffitt--we'll depart." Outside, Davidge took the reporter's arm in a firm grip, and chuckled as he led him towards the elevator. "That's surprise one!" he whispered. "Wait till we get downstairs and into the street, and you'll have another, and it'll be of a bit livelier nature!" CHAPTER XXXV THE SECOND WARRANT Davidge preserved a strict silence as he and Triffitt went down in the elevator, but when they had reached the ground floor he took the reporter's arm again, and as they crossed the entrance hall gave it a significant squeeze. "You'll see two or three rather heavy swells, some of 'em in evening dress, hanging about the door," he murmured. "Look like residents, coming in or going out, puffing their cigars and their cigarettes, eh? They're my men--all of 'em! Take no notice--there'll be your friend Carver outside--I gave him a hint. Join him, and hang about--you'll have something to do a bit of newspaper copy about presently." Triffitt, greatly mystified, joined Carver at the edge of the pavement outside the wide entrance door. Glancing around him he saw several men lounging about--two, of eminently military appearance, with evening dress under their overcoats, stood chatting on the lower steps; two or three others, all very prosperous looking, were talking close by. There was nothing in their outward show to arouse suspicion--at any other time, and under any other circumstances Triffitt would certainly have taken them for residents of the Herapath Flats. Carver, however, winked at him. "Detectives," he said. "They've gathered here while you were upstairs. What's up now, Triffitt? Heard anything?" "Piles!" answered Triffitt. "Heaps! But I don't know what this is all about. Some new departure. Hullo!--here's the secretary and the Professor."