"No one but Salt, I am informed. He has been touring alone for a week past, at all events." "In that case, sir, we had better take a couple of men from Guildford and drive towards Farnham. We can wait at a suitable place in the road and make the arrest. Then when the irons are on I shall need no one beyond the driver I take with me. The two local men--you'll want Mr Salt's _chauffeur_ detained for a few hours, I suppose, sir?" "Yes, certainly; until you are well on your way. And any one else who may happen to be in the car. I will give you authority covering that." "The two local men can take him, or them, back to Guildford--it will be dark by the time they get there--for detention while enquiries are being made. Then if a plain-clothes man meets me at Willesden we can go on, and our driver can take the car on to Scotland Yard." "You see no difficulty throughout?" said B. anxiously. The inspector assured him that all seemed plain sailing. It was not his place to foresee difficulties in B.'s plans. "Then I shall expect you to report to me from Stafford about 10.30 to-night that everything is satisfactory. Let me impress on you as a last word the need of care and _unconcern_ in this case. It must be successfully carried out, and to do that there must be no fuss or publicity." "Sergeant," said Detective-Inspector Moeletter, when they were outside, "between ourselves, can you tell me this: why they think it necessary to have three mute gentlemen looking on while we arrange a matter of this sort?" "Between ourselves, sir," replied Sergeant Tolkeith, looking cautiously around, "it's my belief that it's come to this: that they are all half-afraid of themselves and can't trust one another." "D.," remarked C., as they left together a few minutes later, "does anything strike you about B.?" "It strikes me that he looks rather like an undertaker's man when he is dressed up," replied D. "Does it not strike you that he is _afraid_?" "Oh," admitted D., stroking his wounded cheek, "that's quite possible. So am I, for that matter." "So may we all be in a way," said C.; "but it is different with him. I believe that he is in a _blue funk_. He's fey, and he's got Salt on the brain. Just remember that I venture on this prophecy: if Salt through any cause does not happen to get arrested, B. will throw up the sponge." * * * * * The office of the Unity League in Trafalgar Chambers was little more than an empty hive now. The headquarters of the operations had been transferred to the colony at Hanwood, and most of the staff had followed. With the declaration of the coal war, an entirely different set of conditions had come into force. The old offices had practically become a clearing house for everything connected with the League, and the high tide of active interest swept on elsewhere.