ow him all right," said Stafford and added, "I hope to know him
better."

Pinto recognised the underlying sense of the words, but not a muscle of
his face moved. For Stafford King the hatred with which he regarded the
law lost its personal character. This man was something more than a
thief-taker and a tracker of criminals. Pinto chose to regard him as the
close friend of Maisie White, and as such, his rival.

"And to what are we indebted for this visit?" asked the bland colonel.

"The chief wants to see you."

"The chief?"

"Sir Stanley Belcom. Being the chief of our department I should have
thought you had heard of him."

"Sir Stanley Belcom," repeated the other; "why, of course, I know Sir
Stanley by repute. May I ask what he wants to see me about? And how is
my young friend--er--Miss White?" asked the colonel.

"When I saw her last," replied Stafford steadily, "she was looking
pretty well, so far as I could tell."

"Indeed!" said the colonel politely. "I have a considerable interest in
the welfare of Miss White. May I ask when you saw her?

"Last night," replied Stafford. "She was standing at the door of her
apartments in Doughty Street, having a little talk with your friend," he
nodded to Pinto, and Pinto started; "also," said the cheerful Stafford,
"another mutual friend of ours, Mr. Crewe, was within hailing distance,
unless I am greatly mistaken."

"So you were watching, eh?" burst out Pinto "I thought after the lesson
you had a couple of weeks ago, you'd have----"

"Let me carry on this conversation, if you don't mind," said the
colonel, and the fury in his eyes silenced the Portuguese.

"We have agreed to let bygones be bygones, Mr. King, and I am sure it is
only his excessive zeal on my behalf that induced our friend to be so
indiscreet as to refer to the unpleasant happenings--which we will allow
to pass from our memories."

So the girl was being watched. That made things rather more difficult
than he had imagined. Nevertheless, he anticipated no supreme obstacle
to the actual abduction. His plans had been made that morning, when he
saw in the columns of the daily newspaper a four-line advertisement
which, to a large extent, had cleared away the greatest of his
difficulties.

"And if Mr. King is looking after our young friend, Maisie White, the
daughter of one of our dearest business associates--why, I'm glad," he
went on heartily. "London, Mr. King, is a place full of danger for young
girl