"My story," he said, "is rather longer. When they threw me out of Mervo--" "What!" "I'm afraid you don't keep abreast of European history," he said. "Haven't you heard of the great revolution in Mervo and the overthrow of the dynasty? Bloodless, but invigorating. The populace rose against me as one man--except good old General Poineau. He was for me, and Crump was neutral, but apart from them my subjects were unanimous. There's a republic again in Mervo now." "But why? What had you done?" "Well, I abolished the gaming-tables. But, more probably," he went on quickly, "they saw what a perfect dub I was in every--" She interrupted him. "Do you mean to say that, just because of me--?" "Well," he said awkwardly, "as a matter of fact what you said did make me think over my position, and, of course, directly I thought over it--oh, well, anyway, I closed down gambling in Mervo, and then--" "John!" He was aware of a small hand creeping round the table under cover of the cloth. He pressed it swiftly, and, looking round, caught the eye of a hovering waiter, who swooped like a respectful hawk. "Did you want anything, sir?" "I've got it, thanks," said John. The waiter moved away. "Well, directly they had fired me, I came over here. I don't know what I expected to do. I suppose I thought I might find you by chance. I pretty soon saw how hopeless it was, and it struck me that, if I didn't get some work to do mighty quick, I shouldn't be much good to anyone except the alienists." "Dear!" The waiter stared, but John's eyes stopped him in mid-swoop. "Then I found Smith--" "Where is Mr. Smith?" "In prison," said John with a chuckle. "In prison!" "He resisted and assaulted the police. I'll tell you about it later. Well, Smith told me of the alterations in _Peaceful Moments_, and I saw that it was just the thing for me. And it has occupied my mind quite some. To think of you being the writer of those Broster Street articles! You certainly have started something, Betty! Goodness knows where it will end. I hoped to have brought off a coup this afternoon, but the arrival of Sam and his friends just spoiled it." "This afternoon? Yes, why were you there? What were you doing?" "I was interviewing the collector of rents and trying to dig his employer's name out of him. It was Smith's idea. Smith's theory was that the owner of the tenements must have some special private reason for lying low, and that he would employ some special fellow, whom he could trust, as a rent-collector. And I'm pretty certain he was right. I cornered the collector, a little, rabbit-faced man named Gooch, and I believe he was on the point of--What's the matter?" Betty's forehead was wrinkled. Her eyes wore a far-away expression. "I'm trying to remember something. I seem to know the name, Gooch. And I seem to associate it with a little, rabbit-faced man. And--quick, tell me some more about him. He's just hovering about on the edge of my memory. Quick! Push him in!"