This sort of speculation, however, could wait. There were other things that couldn't. One of these was Mr. Stebbins, the odd-job man who had been engaged at Streetly House on the recommendation of Hughes. Labar was a very weary man, but, if as he suspected, Stebbins was one of the keys to the mystery, it was of importance that he should be looked up before the inspector would be able to call it a day. Larry would no doubt learn of Mrs. Gertstein's disclosure and he was likely to act fast to get the fellow out of the way. Malone had gone home when the inspector reached Grape Street. So it was to another sergeant that Labar gave the mission of seeking out Stebbins, while he himself spent half an hour going through the statements that had been collected from the Streetly House servants, to see whether, after all, his memory was at fault, and that he had seen the man. But there was nothing at all in the records. Labar yawned drowsily. This kind of thing had to be done, but its tedium bored him. He could put up with fatigue and hardship while it was a matter of action. But pinned to a desk, poring futilely over papers was silly. He let his hands drop to his arms on the desk and fell sound asleep. It was after midnight that he was awakened by a discreet plucking at his sleeve. He yawned and brought his feet to the floor with a crash. Moreland, the Flying Squad inspector, was at his elbow. "What's the trouble?" grunted Labar. "Hello, Moreland. Why aren't you tucked up in your little bed like all the other loafers?" "Cut it out, Harry," snapped Moreland. "Pull yourself together. There's a bit of a row on. Lucky I was on hand, or you'd have had one of your people croaked." The divisional detective inspector listened with grave face, as Moreland recited some of the evening's happenings. The Flying Squad man, with a couple of his subordinates, had happened, in the course of another case on which he was engaged, to be in the dining-room of a little Soho restaurant, when the sergeant who had been sent out to find Stebbins, entered with a man who was unknown to Moreland. They had sat down at a table where a third man was already eating, and Moreland saw the sergeant introduced. Without hesitation the hand of the diner immediately sought a water carafe and aimed a terrific blow at Labar's sergeant. The blow had missed, but in a second the place was in an uproar and the two were rolling across an overturned table grappling with each other.