“I suppose poor old Persh will catch us,” he said. “Why Persh?” asked the other. “The taxi driver will be able to identify us as having been his companions. I wonder they have not come before. There is no use in running away. Do you know,” he asked suddenly, “that no man ever escapes the English police if he is known. It saves a lot of trouble to await developments.” “I thought you had been to the station,” said Callidino in surprise. “I have,” said Wallis, “I went there the first thing--in fact, the moment I had an excuse--to identify Persh. There is no sense in pretending we did not know him. The only thing to do is to prove the necessary alibis. As for me, I was in bed and asleep.” “Did anybody see you get back?” asked Callidino. Wallis shook his head. “No,” he said, “they left one man to look after me, and he did a very natural thing, he walked up and down the street. There was nothing easier than to walk the way he was going behind his back and slip in just when I wanted to.” Shadowing is a most tiring business, and what very few realise is the physical strain of remaining in one position, having one object in view. Even the trained police may be caught napping in the most simple manner, and as Wallis said, he had found no difficulty in making his way back to the house without observation. The only danger had been that during his absence somebody had called. “What about you?” Callidino smiled. “My alibi is more complex,” he said, “and yet more simple. My excellent compatriots will swear for me. They lie very readily these Neapolitans.” “Aren’t you a Neapolitan?” “Sicilian,” smiled the other. “Neapolitan!” The contempt in his tone amused Wallis. “Who is the fourth man?” Callidino asked suddenly. “Our mysterious stranger, I am certain of that,” said George Wallis moodily. “But who the devil is he? I have never killed a man in my life so far, but I shall have to take unusual measures to settle my curiosity in this respect. “There will have to be a division of the loot,” he said after a while, “I will go into it to-day. Persh has relations somewhere in the world, a daughter or a sister, she must have her share. There is a fake solicitor in Southwark who will do the work for us. We shall have to invent an uncle who died.” Callidino nodded. “As for me,” he said, rising and stretching himself, “already the vineyards of the South are appealing to me. I shall build me a villa in Montecatini and drink the wines, and another on Lake Maggiore and bathe in the waters. I shall do nothing for the rest of my life save eat and drink and bathe.” “A perfectly ghastly idea!” said Wallis.