ropping
his voice, "it would cost him all that to keep out of the Old Bailey.
They say that his orgies at Hatch End--Our taxi. Come on, Sharpe."

Francis strolled thoughtfully homewards.

CHAPTER XVI

Francis Ledsam was himself again, the lightest-hearted and most popular
member of his club, still a brilliant figure in the courts, although his
appearances there were less frequent, still devoting the greater portion
of his time, to his profession, although his work in connection with
it had become less spectacular. One morning, at the corner of Clarges
Street and Curzon Street, about three weeks after his visit to the
Opera, he came face to face with Sir Timothy Brast.

"Well, my altruistic peerer into other people's affairs, how goes it?"
the latter enquired pleasantly.

"How does it seem, my arch-criminal, to be still breathing God's fresh
air?" Francis retorted in the same vein. "Make the most of it. It may
not last for ever."

Sir Timothy smiled. He was looking exceedingly well that morning, the
very prototype of a man contented with life and his part in it. He was
wearing a morning coat and silk hat, his patent boots were faultlessly
polished, his trousers pressed to perfection, his grey silk tie neat and
fashionable. Notwithstanding his waxenlike pallor, his slim figure and
lithe, athletic walk seemed to speak of good health.

"You may catch the minnow," he murmured. "The big fish swim on.
By-the-bye," he added, "I do not notice that your sledge-hammer blows at
crime are having much effect. Two undetected murders last week, and one
the week before. What are you about, my astute friend?"

"Those are matters for Scotland Yard," Francis replied, with an
indifferent little wave of the hand which held his cigarette. "Details
are for the professional. I seek that corner in Hell where the thunders
are welded and the poison gases mixed. In other words, I seek for the
brains of crime."

"Believe me, we do not see enough of one another, my young friend," Sir
Timothy said earnestly. "You interest me more and more every time we
meet. I like your allegories, I like your confidence, which in any one
except a genius would seem blatant. When can we dine together and talk
about crime?"

"The sooner the better," Francis replied promptly. "Invite me, and I
will cancel any other engagement I might happen to have."

Sir Timothy considered for a moment. The June sunshine was streaming
down upon them and the atmospher