The little police surgeon who had passed them with a cheery wave of his hand turned and walked back. “Well, Children of the Law”—he was inclined to be dramatic—“on what dread errand of vengeance are you bound?” “We are looking for a man named Barberton to ask him to dinner,” said Manfred, shaking hands. “Sounds tame to me: has he any peculiarities which would appeal to me?” “Burnt feet,” said Leon promptly. “If you would like to learn how the coastal intelligence department extract information from unwilling victims, come along.” Elver hesitated. He was a man burnt up by the Indian suns, wizened like a dried yellow apple, and he had no interest in the world beyond his work. “I’ll go with you,” he said, stepping into the car. “And if your Barberton man fails you, you can have me as a guest. I like to hear you talking. One cannot know too much of the criminal mind! And life is dull since the snake stopped biting!” The car made towards Blackfriars Bridge, and Manfred kept watch of the sidewalk. There was no sign of Barberton, and he signalled Leon to turn and come back. This brought the machine to the Embankment side of the broad boulevard. They had passed under Waterloo Bridge and were nearing Cleopatra’s Needle when Gonsalez saw the man they were seeking. He was leaning against the parapet, his elbows on the coping and his head sunk forward as though he were studying the rush of the tide below. The car pulled up near a policeman who was observing the lounger thoughtfully. The officer recognized the police surgeon and saluted. “Can’t understand that bird, sir,” he said. “He’s been standing there for ten minutes—I’m keeping an eye on him because he looks to me like a suicide who’s thinkin’ it over!” Manfred approached the man, and suddenly, with a shock, saw his face. It was set in a grin—the eyes were wide open, the skin a coppery red. “Elver! Leon!” As Leon sprang from the car, Manfred touched the man’s shoulder and he fell limply to the ground. In a second the doctor was on his knees by the side of the still figure. “Dead,” he said laconically, and then: “Good God!” He pointed to the neck, where a red patch showed. “What is that?” asked Manfred steadily. “The snake!” said the doctor. _Chapter V_ _The Golden Woman_ BARBERTON had been stricken down in the heart of London, under the very eyes of the policeman, it proved. “Yes, sir, I’ve had him under observation for a quarter of an hour. I saw him walking along the Embankment, admiring the view, long before he stopped here.” “Did anybody go near him or speak to him?” asked Dr. Elver, looking up. “No, sir, he stood by himself. I’ll swear that nobody was within two yards of him. Of course, people have been passing to and fro, but I have been looking at him all the time, and I’ve not seen man or woman within yards of him, and my eyes were never off him.”