“By Jove, yes,” I answered, wondering what on earth Pride had in mind. “I’ll have to take that up before I leave.” I turned to Ivanovitch. “It’s a little matter of business that I can attend to in half an hour. Will that delay you too much?” I could see that the Russian did not like it, but he could not say so. “If you must, you must,” he answered. “But we should be starting now. You will be as quick as possible?” “I certainly will,” I answered gayly. “I would not miss this for all the real estate in the world.” I jumped into the car. “Make for Times Square, Tom,” I directed Pride. “Back in half an hour or less, Ivanovitch.” Ivanovitch nodded a little glumly as Pride slipped in the clutch. “Very well,” he called after us. Pride tore around a couple of corners and pulled up in front of a drug store. Then he jumped down and opened the door of the car like a man in a hurry. “Man, man, I’ve got some quick telephoning to do. Damn it, we may not be able to get what we need from the police in so short a time. I’m going in to telephone now. In the meantime, have you got that ring and that file?” I struck my forehead with my open palm. “I certainly belong to the Sherlock Holmes class,” I told him. “They are in my other clothes in the bag.” Pride laughed. “Well, hurry up and get them out while I’m telephoning. I don’t want to wait here too long, after what you said about Times Square. He might stroll around here.” I got the bag out from under the seat, found the ring and file and slipped the former on my finger and the little box containing the latter into a handy pocket. But after the bag was packed and stowed away again and all neat and tidy, I lit a match and held my deadly ring so that the snake’s head was in the flame for three or four seconds. It was some time before Pride appeared. And when he did come out, it was with a very long face. He came up and opened the door of the car, as though asking for orders. “Hell,” he said softly; “it took me nearly twenty minutes to locate Peters, and he cannot get more than one motor-bike cop up here in the time. He’s going to try to get a police car stationed near the house to pick you up also, but he seemed doubtful. We’d better get back anyhow. I’ll probably be able to follow you myself.” “All right,” I answered; “but the Russian is wise to us, I think. He knows, or else there’s an awful lot of coincidence in most of his remarks. Never mind. We’ve got to find the place, and this is a chance.” Pride jumped into the driving seat, and a few moments later we were back in front of the Russian’s house. As he opened the car door for me he asked: “You haven’t got a gun on you, have you?” I told him I hadn’t. “That’s right. It will only be taken away from you and it would simply confirm their suspicions. Now good luck, old man. The die is cast.”