“We think exactly alike. I intended suggesting that course,” he said gravely. “The trouble is Meadows. I should like the case to have been settled one way or the other, and for Meadows to be out of it altogether. One doesn’t wish to embarrass him. But the urgency is very obvious. It would have been very easy,” said Leon, a note of regret in his gentle voice. “Now of course it is impossible until the girl is safe. But for that”—he shrugged his shoulders—“to-morrow friend Oberzohn would have experienced a sense of lassitude. No pain . . . just a little tiredness. Sleep, coma—death on the third day. He is an old man, and one has no desire to hurt the aged. There is no hurt like fear. As for Gurther, we will try a more violent method, unless Oberzohn gets him first. I sincerely hope he does.” “This is news to me. What is this about Gurther?” asked Poiccart. Manfred told him. “Leon is right now,” Poiccart nodded. He rose from the table and unlocked the door. “If any of you men wish to sleep, your rooms are ready; the curtains are drawn, and I will wake you at such and such an hour.” But neither were inclined for sleep. George had to see a client that morning: a man with a curious story to tell. Leon wanted a carburetter adjusted. They would both sleep in the afternoon, they said. The client arrived soon after. Poiccart admitted him and put him in the dining-room to wait before he reported his presence. “I think this is your harem man,” he said, and went downstairs to show up the caller. He was a commonplace-looking man with a straggling, fair moustache and a weak chin. “Debilitated or degenerate,” he suggested. “Probably a little of both,” assented Manfred, when the butler had announced him. He came nervously into the room and sat down opposite to Manfred. “I tried to get you on the ’phone last night,” he complained, “but I got no answer.” “My office hours are from ten till two,” said George good-humouredly. “Now will you tell me again this story of your sister?” The man leaned back in the chair and clasped his knees, and began in a sing-song voice, as though he were reciting something that he had learned by heart.