swells, some of 'em in evening
dress, hanging about the door," he murmured. "Look like residents,
coming in or going out, puffing their cigars and their cigarettes, eh?
They're my men--all of 'em! Take no notice--there'll be your friend
Carver outside--I gave him a hint. Join him, and hang about--you'll have
something to do a bit of newspaper copy about presently."

Triffitt, greatly mystified, joined Carver at the edge of the pavement
outside the wide entrance door. Glancing around him he saw several men
lounging about--two, of eminently military appearance, with evening
dress under their overcoats, stood chatting on the lower steps; two or
three others, all very prosperous looking, were talking close by. There
was nothing in their outward show to arouse suspicion--at any other
time, and under any other circumstances Triffitt would certainly have
taken them for residents of the Herapath Flats. Carver, however, winked
at him.

"Detectives," he said. "They've gathered here while you were upstairs.
What's up now, Triffitt? Heard anything?"

"Piles!" answered Triffitt. "Heaps! But I don't know what this is all
about. Some new departure. Hullo!--here's the secretary and the
Professor."

Cox-Raythwaite and Selwood just then appeared at the entrance door and
began to descend the steps. Davidge, who had stopped on the steps to
speak to a man, hailed and drew them aside.

"What has gone on up there?" asked Carver. "Anything really----"

Triffitt suddenly grasped his companion's shoulder, twisting him round
towards the door. His lips emitted a warning to silence; his eyes
signalled Carver to look.

Burchill came out of the doors, closely followed by Dimambro. Jauntily
swinging his walking-cane he began to descend, affecting utter
unconsciousness of the presence of Cox-Raythwaite, Selwood, and Davidge.
He passed close by the men in evening dress, brushing the sleeve of one.
And the man thus brushed turned quickly, and his companion turned
too--and then something happened that made the two reporters exclaim
joyfully and run up the steps.

"Gad!--that was quick--quick!" exclaimed Triffitt, with the delight of a
schoolboy. "Never saw the bracelets put on more neatly. Bully for you,
Davidge, old man!--got him this time, anyhow!"

Burchill, taken aback by the sudden onslaught of Davidge's satellites,
drew himself up indignantly and looked down at his bands, around the
wrists of which his captors had snapped a pair of handc