Although perhaps the most spectacular, in reality the most simple of the problems that arise at Scotland Yard is the pursuit of a known man for a known crime. A criminal may escape if there is nothing to link him with an offence, but once a link is established it is long odds that, hide where he may, pursuit will catch up with him at last. The whole world is aroused to the hue and cry. He may disguise himself, he may flee to the ends of the earth, but even if persistent methodical search fails to reveal him, some chance will almost to a certainty lead to his betrayal. Harry Labar's perspective, from his closeness to affairs, was not quite so clear in this matter as Winter's. That veteran did not conceal his satisfaction at the manner in which the investigation was developing. "You've got Larry Hughes out into the open at last, my boy," he said. "All you have to do now is to worry him. Keep him on the run. Things are coming your way. Don't let any slack fit come along and spoil it all." "Yes, sir." Labar received the compliment with meekness. It was something anyway to get a compliment out of the Chief Constable. "But we haven't got anything yet that will associate him with the robbery. Stebbins may help us to get at Billy Bungey. There is Mrs. Gertstein. There is Gold Dust Teddy. So far we're to the good. But we haven't got the solid evidence yet that will lead to a conviction of the main guy. He's slippery as an eel and you know it, sir." Winter chuckled. "Don't come that on me, Labar. Trying to establish an alibi in case things go wrong, are you? Going to get all the little fish and let the big one slip through the net? Same old story about Larry. Well, it doesn't go down with me. You've got to get Larry. See if you can't get him for the Gertstein job, hook him up for the 'Maid's Retreat' trouble. Only get him." "I'm going to get him, sir," returned the inspector, with an inflection in his voice that caused Winter to glance at him shrewdly through his spectacles. "I've just a little personal feeling in this matter, and I'm going through with it." Winter was looking idly at the ceiling. "Nice girl that Miss Noelson, they tell me," he said absently. "Doesn't always do to mix sentiment up with our business, though, Labar." A slight tinge of colour crept under the tinge of Labar's tan. He wondered how the other had got to learn of something that he felt was a secret rigorously locked in his own breast. Perhaps the Chief was only guessing. "I don't know much about the young lady," he returned. "She's a nice girl, as you say. But you can rely that nothing will interfere with my duty." The thin relic of a smile still loitered about the Chief Constable's lips as he nodded. "Don't mind an old hand giving you a hint, do you? There's another thing. When does Myson get back from his holidays?"