“I suppose so,” said Wallis, with grave indifference. “It is pretty terrible to have names such as we possess. Seriously,” he went on, “I am not very much afraid of the police, even suppose there was anything to find. I haven’t met one of them who has the intelligence of that cool devil we met at the Foreign Office, when I had to answer some questions about Persh’s unique experiences on Devil’s Island.” “What was his name?” asked Persh, interested. “Something associated in my mind with South Africa--oh, yes, Standerton. A cool beast--I met him at Epsom the other day,” said Wallis. “He’s lost in a place like the Foreign Office. Do you remember that quick run through he gave me, Persh?” The other nodded. “Before I knew where I was I admitted that I’d been in Huntingdonshire the same week as Lady Perkinton’s jewels were taken. If he’d had another five minutes I guess he’d have known”--he lowered his voice to little more than a whisper--“all this hidden treasure which the English police are seeking was cached.” The men laughed as at some great joke. “Talking of cool people,” said Wallis, “do you recall that weird devil who held us up in Hatton Garden?” “Have you found him?” asked Callidino. George shook his head. “No,” he said slowly, “only I’m rather afraid of him.” Which was a remarkable confession for him to make. He changed the subject abruptly. “I suppose you people know,” said Wallis, “that the police are particularly active just now? I’ve reason to be aware of the fact, because they have just concluded a most exhaustive search of my private belongings.” He did not exaggerate. The police were, indeed, most eager for some clue to associate these three known criminals with the acts of the past month. Half an hour later Wallis left the building. He paused in the entrance hall of the big block of offices, lighted a cigar with an air that betokened his peace with the world and his approval of humanity. As his foot touched the pavement a tall man stepped to his side. Wallis looked up quickly and gave a little nod. “I want you,” said the tall man coldly. “Do you indeed?” said Wallis with exaggerated interest. “And what may you want with me?” “You come along with me, and not so much of your lip,” said the man. He called a cab, and the two men were rapidly driven to the nearest City police station. Wallis continued smoking his cigar, without any outward indication of apprehension. He would have chatted very gaily with the officer who had effected his arrest, but the officer himself was in no mood for light humour. He was hustled into the charge room and brought before the inspector’s desk. That officer looked up with a nod. He was more genial than his captor. “Well, Wallis,” he said with a smile, “we want some information from you.” “You always want information from somebody,” said the man with cold insolence. “Have you had another burglary?” The inspector nodded.