"Who? What?" demanded Malone, who had been dozing in a corner of the compartment, after his vain attempts to lure his chief into conversation. "I was saying that Larry Hughes may find Mrs. Gertstein liable to shy over the traces." "He certainly ought to be easier to find while she's pinned to his coat tails," agreed Malone. "He'll try to get her out of the way," said Labar. "It's a hundred to one that he tries to slip her abroad. If he goes himself the gang will take different routes to different places. First thing we must do is to let the ports have photographs of the lady and descriptions of the other people. Yes, it's a sure thing they'll split up. Larry won't make it any easier for us than he can help." "Then it's time for us to come out in the open, guv'nor. Let the newspapers have the story. With millions of pairs of eyes looking for that lot they're not all going to get through." "Not quite ripe enough for that yet, Bill," dissented the other. "There's people we're not sure about in this game. We want to rope them in, and a splurge in the papers would give them warning." "What you say goes, guv'nor. Only here's our big chance to put Larry behind the bars. Whether it's for the Streetly House burglary or for something else, doesn't matter." Labar clapped a fist into the palm of the other hand. "Take it from me, Bill, if we can get our hooks on that man on any pretext we'll keep him. But although we've got him on the run I don't want to go off at half-cock. Another day or two and I think we'll have enough proof against him, so that even the wiliest barrister living won't be able to wriggle him out of a sentence that will keep him out of the way till we've got long white beards and are out of the service. I aim to make the case water-tight. Though mind you," he added, a little wistfully, "if I knew where to find him now I'd give half a year's pay." CHAPTER XVII No one can tell with certainty how a great disaster will affect a man. Gertstein, chewing a cold cigar, and with hands thrust deep in his trousers pockets, strode with rolling gait about the room while Labar told in carefully selected phrases the truth about his wife. The little man, whose interviews with the inspector hitherto had been marked by temperamental outbursts, was now as cold as ice. Labar had expected either a breakdown or a vast explosion of passion. This frigid acceptance of a great blow surprised him. He mentally contrasted the emotion that the financier had shown when the robbery had taken place. "You tell me that Adèle has gone away with this lover of hers--this crook?" said Gertstein, as indifferently as though he was discussing the weather. "I am afraid there is no doubt of it," agreed Labar. He was wondering whether the indifference was real or assumed. For the life of him he could not come to a decision. "And that she has forged my name and attempted to kill you."