"In short, Baron" (Sheffield tried not to hear; for he knew this voice too), "there is a power above the Eagle, a power above the Lion: the power of wealth! Lacking her for ally, no nation can war with another! The king of that power has spoken--and declared for peace! I am glad of it, and so, I know, are you!" Following a short interval, a shaking of hands, as the unwilling eavesdropper divined. Then, by some other door, a number of people withdrew, amid a hum of seemingly friendly conversation. A gentleman pulled the curtain aside. "Come in, Sheffield!" he said genially. Chief Inspector Sheffield bowed very low and entered a large room, which, save for the gentleman who had admitted him, now was occupied only by the Right Hon. Walter Belford, Home Secretary. "How do you do, Inspector?" asked Mr. Belford affably. "Thank you, sir," replied the detective with diffidence; "I am quite well, and trust you are." "I think I know what has brought you here," continued the Home Secretary. "You have been following----" "Severac Bablon! Yes, sir!" "As I supposed. Well, it will be expedient, Inspector, religiously to keep that name out of the Press in future! Furthermore--er--any warrant that may be in existence must be cancelled! This is a matter of policy, and I am sending the necessary instructions to the Criminal Investigation Department. In short--drop the case!" Chief Inspector Sheffield looked rather dazed. "No doubt, this is a surprise to you," continued Mr. Belford; "but do not allow it to be a disappointment. Your tactful conduct of the case, and the delicate manner in which you have avoided compromising anyone--in which you have handicapped yourself, that others might not be implicated--has not been overlooked. Your future is assured, Inspector Sheffield." The gentleman who had admitted Sheffield had left the apartment almost immediately afterwards. Now he returned, and fastened a pin in the detective's tie. "By way of apology for spoiling your case, Sheffield!" he said. What Sheffield said or did at that moment he could never afterwards remember. A faint recollection he had of muttering something about "Severac Bablon----!" "Ssh!" Mr. Belford had replied. "There is no such person!" It was at the moment of his leave-taking that his eyes were drawn to an ash-tray upon the big table. A long tongue of bluish-grey smoke licked the air, coiling sinuously upward from amid cigar ends and ashes. It seemingly possessed a peculiar and pungent perfume. And it proceeded from the smouldering fragment of a yellow cigarette. * * * * * When Inspector Sheffield fully recovered his habitual composure and presence of mind, he found himself proceeding along Piccadilly. War was in the breeze; War was on all the placards. Would-be warriors looked out from every club window. "Rule, Britannia" rang out from every street organ.