She held out a slim hand. "I want to thank you," she said simply. "Better go now," he said, "before I change my mind." He held the door open for her and stood for a while in thought watching her as she descended the stairs. Another door opened, and a man casually followed her. The mechanics of investigation have to be obeyed, and Labar had no intention of calling off her shadow. He returned to his desk, and picked up a document. But his agility of mind had deserted him. He saw nothing but a pair of grey eyes--eyes plaintive, protesting, pleading. For ten minutes he sat thus, lost to the world. A sharp, imperative knock at the door, followed by the swift entrance of one of his men, recalled him to himself. "I'm sorry, sir," gasped the intruder, "Miss Noelson, Miss Noelson----" Labar was at his side and shook him roughly by the shoulder. "Don't stand there stammering, you fool. What's happened to Miss Noelson?" "She's gone, sir. Just outside Streetly House it was. A gentleman stopped to speak to her. I was thirty yards away. They walked a few paces. Suddenly he lifted her into a big car that was standing at the kerb. She shouted, but before I could reach them they were gone. That's all, sir." "You lump of mud. You condemned camel. What else did you do besides gaping after them like a codfish? Did you get the car number? What was the man like?" Labar shook the man feverishly. The other pulled himself away unresentfully. "It was a big Rolls, number K9362. The man was of medium size, very well dressed in a light-grey suit----" "Larry Hughes, by thunder!" ejaculated Labar. CHAPTER VII The incidence of crime among fifty million people affects the average individual very seldom. Any ordinary man who has his pocket picked or the domestic silver stolen, has the feeling that he has been unfairly selected as the victim of a phenomenon. Why should such a singular misfortune happen to him? So it was with Penelope Noelson. A very much worried person was that girl as she left the precincts of the Grape Street police station. She felt a sense of injustice that she should have become caught in a coil from which she saw no way of extricating herself. If only things would work out so that she would not be involved. A selfish attitude no doubt, but one which she would have been something more than human to avoid. Quite illogically, there was a touch of exasperation in her mind with Labar. She had felt grateful to him as she left the station, but now she reflected that like many men he was blind in one eye. How dare he assume that her silence was due to an affection for Mr. Hughes? Why, he had even hinted that--that----. She flushed hotly at the implication that she realised might have lain behind his guarded words. For Penelope, although a modern and sophisticated maiden, had a quite sufficient self-respect.