“These things,” he said, wagging his finger jocosely at the perturbed baronet, “do not happen in Pimlico. No, I suspect that our constable, the man I spoke to you about, is at the bottom of it. He is probably the whole Four of these desperate conspirators.” He laughed again.
Sir Isaac fingered his moustache nervously.
“It’s all rot to say they don’t exist; we know what they did six years ago, and I don’t like this other man a bit,” he grumbled.
“Don’t like which other man?”
“This interfering policeman,” he replied irritably. “Can’t he be squared?”
“The constable?”
“Yes; you can square constables, I suppose, if you can square sergeants.” Sir Isaac Tramber had the gift of heavy sarcasm.
Black stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“Curiously enough,” he said, “I have never thought of that. I think we can try.” He glanced at his watch. “Now I’ll ask you just to clear out,” he said. “I have an appointment at half-past one.”
Sir Isaac smiled slowly.
“Rather a curious hour for an appointment,” he said.
“Ours is a curious business,” replied Colonel Black.
They rose, and Sir Isaac turned to Black.
“What is the appointment?” he asked.
Black smiled mysteriously. “It is rather a peculiar case,” he began.
He stopped suddenly.
There were hurried footsteps on the stairs without. A second later the door was flung open and Sparks burst into the room.
“Guv’nor,” he gasped, “they’re watching the house.”
“Who is watching?”
“There’s a busy3 on the other side of the road,” said the man, speaking graphically. “I spotted him, and the moment he saw I noticed him he moved off. He’s back again now. Me and Willie have been watching him.”
The two followed the agitated Sparks downstairs, where from a lower window they might watch, unobserved, the man who dared spy on their actions.
“If this is the police,” fumed Black, “that dog Gurden has failed me. He told me Scotland Yard were taking no action whatever.”
Frank, from his place of observation, was well aware that he had caused some consternation. He had seen Sparks turn back hurriedly with Jakobs and re-enter the house. He observed the light go out suddenly on the first floor, and now he had a pretty shrewd idea that they were watching him through the glass panel of the doorway.
There was no more he could learn. So far his business had been a failure. It was no secret to him that Sir Isaac Tramber was an associate of Black’s, or that Jakobs and estimable Sparks were also partners in this concern.
He did not know what he hoped to find, or what he had hoped to accomplish.
He was turning away in the direction of Victoria when his attention was riveted on the figure of a young man which was coming slowly along on the opposite sidewalk, glancing from time to time at the numbers which were inscribed on the fanlights of the doors.
He watched him curiously, then in a flash he realized his objective as he stopped in front of No. 63.
In half a dozen steps he had crossed the road towards him. The boy—he was little more—turned round, a little frightened at the sudden appearance.
Frank Fellowe walked up to him and recognized him. “You need not be scared,” he said, “I am a police officer. Are you going into that house?”
The young man looked at him for a moment and made no reply. Then, in a voice that shook, he said “Yes.”
“Are you going there to give Colonel Black certain information about your employer’s business?”
The young man seemed hypnotized by fear. He nodded. “Is your employer aware of the fact?”
Slowly he shook his head.
“Did he send you?” he asked suddenly, and Frank observed a note of terror in his voice.
“No,” he smiled, wondering internally who the “he” was. “I am here quite on my own, and my object is to warn you against trusting Colonel Black.”
He jerked up his head, and Frank saw the flush that came to his face.
“You are Constable Fellowe,” he said suddenly.
To say that Frank was a little staggered is to express the position mildly.
“Yes,” he repeated, “I am Constable Fellowe.”
Whilst he was talking the door of the house had opened. From the position in which he stood Frank could not see this. Black merged stealthily and came down the steps towards him.
The agent had no other desire than to discover the identity of the man who was shadowing him. He was near enough to hear what the young man said.
“Fellowe,” he boomed, and came down the rest of the steps at a run. “So it’s you, is it?” he snarled. “It’s you interfering with my business again.”
“Something like that,” said Frank coolly.
He turned to the young man again.
“I tell you,” he said in a tone of authority, “that if you go into this house, or have anything whatever to do with this man, you will regret it to the last day of your life.”
“You shall pay for this!” fumed Black. “I’ll have your coat from your back, constable. I’ll give you in charge. I’ll—I’ll—”
“You have an excellent opportunity,” said Frank. His quick eye had detected the figure of a constable on the other side of the road, walking slowly towards them. “There’s a policeman over there; call him now and give me in charge. There is no reason why you shouldn’t—no reason why you should want to avoid publicity of the act.”
“Oh, no, no!”
It was the youth who spoke.
“Colonel Black, I must come another time.”
He turned furiously on Frank. “As to you—” he began, gaining courage from Black’s presence.
“As to you,” retorted Frank, “avoid bad company!”
He hesitated, then turned and walked quickly away, leaving the two men alone on the pavement.
The three watchers in the hall eyed the scene curiously, and two of them at least anticipated instructions from Black which would not be followed by pleasant results for Frank.
With an effort, however, Black controlled his temper. He, too, had seen the shadow on the other side of the road.
“Look here, Constable Fellowe,” he said, with forced geniality, “I know you’re wrong, and you think
