Sleep did not come until daybreak, and he woke in his most irritable frame of mind. He had promised the girl he would call and see her, though he had privately arranged with Oberzohn not to go to the house until the expiry of the five days. By lunch-time he could stand the worry no longer, and, ordering his car, drove to a point between New Cross and Bermondsey, walking on foot the remainder of the distance. Mr. Oberzohn expected the visit. He had a shrewd knowledge of his confederate’s mental outfit, and when he saw this well-dressed man picking a dainty way across the littered ground, he strolled out on the steps to meet him. “It is curious you should have come,” he said. “Why didn’t you telephone?” growled Newton. This was his excuse for the visit. “Because there are human machines at the end of every wire,” said Oberzohn. “If they were automatic and none could listen, but you and I, we would talk and talk and then talk! All day long would I speak with you and find it a pleasure. But not with Miss This and Miss That saying, ‘One moment, if you please,’ and saying to the Scotland Yard man, ‘Now you cut in’!” “Is Gurther back?” “Gurther is back,” said the doctor soberly. “Nothing happened to that bird? At least, I saw nothing in the evening papers.” “He has gone to Lisbon,” replied the doctor indifferently. “Perhaps he will get there, perhaps he will not—what does it matter? I should like to see the letter, because it is data, and data has an irresistible charm for a poor old scientist. You will have a drink?” Monty hesitated, as he always did when Oberzohn offered him refreshment. You could never be sure with Oberzohn. “I’ll have a whisky,” he said at last, “a full bottle—one that hasn’t been opened. I’ll open it myself.” The doctor chuckled unevenly. “You do not trust?” he said. “I think you are wise. For who is there in this world of whom a man can say, ‘He is my friend. To the very end of my life I will have confidence in him’?” Monty did not feel that the question called for an answer. He took the whisky bottle to the light, examined the cork and drove in the corkscrew. “The soda water—that also might be poisoned,” said Dr. Oberzohn pleasantly. At any other time he would not have made that observation. That he said it at all, betrayed a subtle but ominous change in their relationships. If Monty noticed this, he did not say a word, but filled his glass and sat down on the sofa to drink. And all the time the doctor was watching him interestedly. “Yes, Gurther is back. He failed, but you must excuse failure in a good man. The perfect agent has yet to be found, and the perfect principal also. The American, Washington, had left Paris when I last heard of him. He is to be congratulated. If I myself lived in Paris I should always be leaving. It is a frivolous city.”