"My request was merely a matter of courtesy," he remarked. "The difficulty of searching you is not formidable. It would have been undertaken long ago but for the fact that the restaurant has been crowded and gags sometimes slip. Besides, there was no hurry. Observe!" He leaned over Graham, who for the first time struggled furiously but ineffectually with his bonds. His fingers all the time were straining towards the inside pocket of his coat. Fischer nodded understandingly. "Allow me to anticipate you," he said. With a quick thrust he drew a little handful of papers from the pocket of his captive. One by one he glanced them through and flung them on to the floor. As he came towards the end of his search, however, his expression of confident complacency vanished. His lips shrivelled up a little, his eyes narrowed. The last folded sheet of paper--a little perfumed note from Peggy, thanking Sandy for his beautiful roses--he crumpled fiercely into a little ball. He opened his lips to speak, then he paused. A new light broke in upon him. The fury had passed from Sandy Graham's face. In its stead there was an expression of blank astonishment. "Where is the formula?" Fischer asked fiercely. There was no reply. Sandy Graham was still staring at the little pile of papers upon the floor. Fischer made a brief examination of the other pockets. Then he stepped back. His voice shook, his face was dark and malevolent. "Joseph, Hassan, Jules--listen to me!" he ordered. "Did any one else enter the musicians' room whilst he was lying in the alcove?" "Impossible!" Jules declared. "The door was locked," Hassan murmured. "Stop!" Joseph exclaimed. Fischer wheeled round upon him. "Well?" he exclaimed. "Get on, then. Who?" Joseph moistened his lips. He was still feeling sore and dizzy, but he began to see his way. "You noticed, perhaps," he said, "the American girl--the beautiful young lady with this guy's friends? She was waiting with the others for Captain Graham to come down. I saw her go up the stairs. I saw her come down again, three minutes later." "Miss Van Teyl?" Fischer exclaimed, with a frown. "You're mad, Joseph!" The negro laughed grimly. "Am I!" he retorted. "I tell you this, Master Fischer. She was in Berlin where I was, and she was at the Embassy every day. She was asked to leave there. They put her over the frontier into Holland. I knew her when she came into the restaurant. She's no society young lady, she ain't! Bet you she was on to the goods." Fischer hesitated for a moment. The thoughts were chasing one another through his brain. Then he took up the receiver from the telephone instrument which stood upon the table. "1560 Mayfair," he asked in a low tone. They all stood listening, grouped around Graham's writhing figure. "Hullo! Is that Claridge's Hotel?" Fischer went on. "I am speaking from Giro's. Put me through, if you please, to Miss Van Teyl's apartments... What? Repeat that, will you?... Thank you."