“Send an all station message: In the event of an office burglary being reported, keep the complainant under observation.” The man scribbled the message down and left. “I send that in case you won’t alter your mind about giving me the information I want.” “I’m not likely to tell you,” said Amber decisively. “In the first place, it won’t help you much to know where they came from, unless you can find the factory.” The inspector nodded. “When a gang can do work like this, they usually possess more than ordinary resources. If you went for them you’d only bite off a bit of the tail, but the rest of the body would go to earth quicker than money melts.” “I could put them under observation----” began the inspector. “Pouf!” said Amber scornfully, “pouf, my inspector! Observation be blowed! They’d twig the observer in two shakes; they’d recognize his boots, and his moustache, and his shaven chin. I know your observers. I can pick ’em out in a crowd. No, that’s not my idea.” Amber hesitated, and appeared to be a little ill at ease. “Go on, have another cigar, that will help you,” encouraged Fell, and opened the box. “I thank you, but no,” said Amber firmly. “I can talk without any such drastic inducement. What I want to say is this; you know my record?” “I do,” said Fell; “or I think I do, which amounts to the same thing.” “My Chief Inspector,” said Amber with some severity, “I beg you to apply your great intellect to a matter which concerns me, as it concerns you. A flippant and a careless interest in the problem I am putting forward may very well choke the faucet of frankness which at present is turning none too easily. In other words, I am embarrassed.” He was silent for awhile; then he got up from the other side of Fell’s desk, where he had sat at the detective’s invitation, and began to pace the room. “It’s common talk throughout the prisons of England that there is a gang, a real swell gang, putting bank-notes into circulation--not only English but foreign notes,” he began. “It is also common talk in less exclusive circles, Amber, my dear lad,” said Fell dryly; “we want that gang badly.” He picked up a plate, and held it under the light. “This looks good, but until we ‘pull’ it I cannot tell how good.” “Suppose”--Amber leant over the table and spoke earnestly--“suppose it is the work of the big gang,--suppose I can track ’em down----” “Well?” “Would you find me a billet at the Yard?” They looked at each other for a space of time, then the lines about the inspector’s eyes creased and puckered, and he burst into a roar of laughter. “My Chief Detective Inspector,” said Amber reproachfully, “you hurt me.” But Amber’s plaintive protest did not restore the detective’s gravity. He laughed until the tears streamed down his face, and Amber watched him keenly.