“Don’t stir, even over to the Salters, or when you do go, take Roscoe; he and Salter are birds of a feather—a couple of philosophers, clever, deeply-read cranks. I shall notify to my men to keep a sharp eye on you.” “So then I’m to be under police protection, am I?” “I am afraid it will be a distressing necessity; but the fact will naturally be known only to you and me.” “So you honestly believe that Krauss is not on the square?” FitzGerald nodded and then replied: “He does not associate with the best German people here—I think they smell a rat; and the English give him a fairly wide berth. His manners are impossible; even in Rangoon money is not everything, and his record is peculiar. He came away from China stony-broke, picked up a few thousands in Singapore and then settled in Rangoon about twelve years ago—and Rangoon has suited him down to the ground. When they first arrived Mrs. Krauss was an extraordinarily handsome woman, popular and lively; could keep a whole dinner-table going and was always splendidly dressed. On the whole, a valuable, but unconscious tool! Latterly her health has failed and she has subsided. Besides his German hangers on, the oddest sort of guests collect at ‘Heidelberg,’ though you and I may not meet them—men from Calcutta, the Straits and even China. Not long ago I came across Krauss’s brown motor in a block in Phayre Street. I happened to glance inside; there was Krauss himself and two fat natives, one a notorious _budmash_, and I noticed that, after I had passed, a hand _pulled down the blind_. Why? In a place like this, and indeed everywhere, a man is judged by his friends. Krauss tries to keep in with Rangoon society and poses as a brusque, eccentric sort of a fellow, with a rude manner and a good heart. The days of his grand dinner-parties came to an end some time ago. Now the fat grey spider at ‘Heidelberg’ has to rely more or less on his wife’s pretty niece; she is bright and popular and attracts a lot of useful people into his web. To see that girl pouring out tea, or sitting at the piano, making delicious music, who would suppose that ‘Heidelberg’ was the headquarters of a gang of thieves? Mrs. Krauss is a back number, her health has gone to pieces, and lately I believe she is in a bad way.” He paused, and surveying Shafto with half-closed eyes, added: “I suppose you don’t know what her complaint is?” “Oh, yes—acute neuralgia.” “Acute grandmother!” scoffed FitzGerald. “Guess again!” “Well—what?” FitzGerald leant over, took a long breath, and whispered the word “Cocaine.” “Oh, nonsense!” And Shafto burst out laughing. “Why, man, you’re mad!” “Mad—not a bit of it! I happen to know where she gets the stuff and I’ve known for a good while, Krauss has no idea that his wife drugs; it’s all so artfully managed. That Madras ayah is a rare treasure and as cunning as the devil; she ought to be in our Secret Service. I needn’t tell you that she is extravagantly paid.”