"You are not acquainted with anyone associated with the Gertstein's? A Miss Noelson, for instance?" However a man may use himself to mask his emotions, there is usually some point, as experienced poker players know, at which he betrays himself. Not infrequently, though his face may be immobile, some nervous twitch of the hands, some apparently small mannerism, will reveal itself to the one competent to read. Larry showed nothing in his face, but his right toe tapped nervously on the soft carpet. Labar marked that movement. "I've never heard of the lady," said Larry easily, and rising, strolled to the mantel, and placed one arm upon it. His equanimity was to all seeming undisturbed. Labar smiled, grimly. "Don't waste your time standing. It was an oversight to leave the photograph there, if you meant to deny that you knew this lady. I have the portrait in my pocket." The right toe tapped a quick tattoo, and Larry eyed the other whimsically. He thrust up his hands. "Kamerad," he cried. "I have heard of the efficiency of Scotland Yard. Now I see it. The merest little white lie, and you pounce, Mr. Labar. I do know Miss Noelson--slightly. I hope to know her better. There's an admission for you. Can you build something on that? Do you think that she stole the jewels, or did I?" He smiled superciliously down on the detective, with an indescribable air of polite contempt. Labar, spite of his resolution to hold himself with restraint, was a little stung by the other man's audacity. Larry had the impudence to play with him. "If you want it point blank," he said, quite gently, but with jaw jutting out a trifle, "I'll tell you that you ran the show. This is quite unofficial, of course, but you know that I know, so what's the use of keeping up this farce? How deep the girl is in it I am not sure, yet. But I'll have enough on you in a week to put you where you belong." Larry Hughes flung back his head and laughed till exhaustion caused him to desist. "That's real funny. You don't look it I'll admit, but you must be one of those comic sleuths. Shall I do some thought reading, Mr. Labar? You come across a big jewel robbery and your well-known grey matter gets to work. 'Ah, ah,' you say. 'Here is the obvious handiwork of that famous gentleman crook, Mr. Hughes. Let's go on a fishing expedition, and see what we can bluff out of Mr. Hughes.' Am I right, sir?" He leaned forward with hand outstretched in burlesque imitation of a vaudeville lightning calculator.