He looked over his steel spectacles inquiringly at the inspector and Labar fancied that he could detect the glimmer of a smile. "This affects Gertstein, sir." "Well, he's not the only man whose wife has been blackmailed." "No. But he might make it difficult, when he sees how a big scandal may come home to him." "Ah." The superintendent polished his spectacles, and readjusted them. "You think Gertstein might deliberately try to gum up things to hush up the scandal." Labar nodded. Both these men understood something which neither of them said. "I take it that it's Larry we want, sir." Marlow leaned back with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets and studied the inspector. "Out with it, Harry. Is it that you want me to handle this? Losing your nerve?" The other lifted his shoulders without reply. This, win or lose, was a big and delicate affair. It was such a case as usually fell to the lot of one of the Big Four. Marlow had every right to deal with it himself if he wished. "Don't get worried," went on the superintendent. "I've got enough business of my own to attend to." He got up and laid a hand on Labar's shoulder. "The old man asked me to stand down to give you a chance. I'm not going to interfere now unless you ask me to. Carry on in your own way--and at your own risk. Only get Larry and you can go as far as you like." "I'm grateful----" "Nothing to be grateful about. I've had thirty-three years of the game and next year I hope to be in the country raising chickens." He chuckled. "Don't forget you may find yourself in a mess. I'd just as soon be out of it." He lied, and Labar knew he lied. If there was trouble the superintendent of the area could not altogether evade responsibility. The inspector was a thoughtful man as he took his leave. The immediate thing was to see Mrs. Gertstein. His future action depended in some degree on what developed from that interview. He had no desire to arrest her--just now. That would only happen if his hand were forced. But as an instrument to lead him to his greater quarry she was likely to be useful. Five hours later he and Malone were walking through the lodge gates and up the avenue of chestnuts that led to "Maid's Retreat." He had decided against a cab from the station, preferring to take the three mile walk. One never knew what information might be picked up on the way. The old Elizabethan, half-timbered house nestled sleepily in the sunshine as they plodded up the drive. A figure rose languidly from a veranda and made its way into the house. They found no need to ring as they reached the door. A trim maid awaited them. Labar presented his card. The girl looked at it doubtfully. "I'm sorry. Mrs. Gertstein is out." "That's all right. We'll wait," said Labar serenely. The maid shuffled her feet uneasily. "I'm afraid that she won't be back to-day. She's gone to town."