Detectives after all, are very like other human beings. Labar was concerned at the back of his mind with the reaction this robbery might have upon his own personal affairs. He was not in good odour with his chiefs. True, he was the divisional inspector, and the burglary had taken place on his ground, but it was odds that some of the mandarins at the Yard would take the investigation out of his hands and place it in those of a chief inspector from headquarters. That, in the ordinary course of events would not be any slight, and Labar, with his constitutional indolence would have been glad to be relieved of any responsibility. But in present circumstances it would wear an ominous air. He was young for the post he had reached, and there were many years in front of him before he would be eligible for a pension. He had attained a stage where all violent ambition had vanished, but still it would be galling to be put on the shelf. His agitation of mind was disclosed by the fact that he had betrayed his hopelessness to Gertstein--a breach of professional etiquette as rank as that of a doctor who tells a patient that he is dying. He tried to efface the impression he had created by a laugh. "We find it best to be a little pessimistic in our business, Mr. Gertstein. Then if things come off we get a bit more credit. Don't you worry. We'll do our best if only for our own sakes." "You'd better," said Gertstein, grimly. "Don't forget that I can use a pull if I like, that would make the entire Metropolitan Police sit up." Labar smiled serenely as though the threat had no meaning for him. Yet he did not believe it altogether an empty one. Gertstein, with his money and his affiliations, could probably do wicked damage to an obscure detective inspector if he chose to pull strings. That momentary tactlessness looked as if it might bring retribution. The arrival of the Assistant Commissioner and the Chief Constable of the C.I.D., accompanied by Labar's immediate superior, Detective Superintendent Marlow--one of that select company the newspapers loved to refer to as the "Big Four"--broke into the conversation. Gertstein shook hands with the three. "I hope you won't agree with your inspector that the case is hopeless--that I shall never see any of my beautiful things back," he said sourly. Winter shot a swift glance at Labar, who straightened his back with a brave attempt at nonchalance. It was the Assistant Commissioner who answered. "Nothing is ever hopeless, Mr. Gertstein. I am sure that you have misapprehended Mr. Labar's views." The millionaire made a gesture of dissent. "I am not so big a fool as that," he retorted. Now the head of the Criminal Investigation Department could see as far through a brick wall as most people. He would always assert that he was not a detective--that he had men on his staff who knew the game, and he was content to leave detective work to them. But he did know men. It was said that he could charm a bird from a tree.