ward and apparently through the floor. The colonel rested
and eyed the debris thoughtfully.

"What is under this flat? Lee's office, isn't it? Of course, Lee's!" he
said. "I'm the fool!"

He handed the knife back to Pinto, took an electric torch from his
pocket and led the way from the flat. They passed down the half-darkened
stairs to the floor beneath, on which was situated the three sets of
offices. The colonel took a bunch of keys and tried them on the door of
the surveyor's office. Presently he found one that fitted, and the door
opened. He fumbled about for the electric switch, found it and flooded
the room with light. It was a very ordinary clerk's office, with a small
counter, the flap of which was raised. Inside the flap he saw something
white on the floor, and, stooping, picked it up. It was a lady's
handkerchief.

"L," he read. "That sounds like Lollie. Do you know this, Crewe?"

Crewe took the handkerchief and nodded.

"That is Lollie's," he said shortly.

"I thought so. This is where she was when we were looking for her. Here
with Jack o' Judgment, eh? Let's try the inner office."

The inner office was locked, but he had no difficulty in gaining
admission. Inside this was a private office which was simply furnished
and had in one corner what appeared to be a telephone box. He opened the
glass door and flashed his lamp inside. There was a little desk, a pair
of receivers fastened to a headpiece, and a small vulcanite transmitter.

"This is where he sat," said the colonel meditatively, pointing to a
stool, "and this----" he lifted up the earpieces--"is how he heard all
our very interesting conversations. Go upstairs, Pinto, I want to try
this transmitter."

He fixed the receiver to his ears and waited, and presently he heard
distinctly the sound of Pinto closing the door of the room upstairs.
Then he spoke through the receiver.

"Do you hear me, Pinto?"

"I hear you distinctly," said Pinto's voice.

"Speak a little lower. Carry on a conversation with yourself and let me
try to hear you."

Pinto obeyed. He recited something from the Orpheum revue, a line or two
of a song, and the colonel heard distinctly every syllable. He replaced
the earpieces where he had found them, closed the door of the box and
that of the outer office, and led the way upstairs. The whisky still
stood upon the table and he lifted a glass and drained it at a draught.

"If you're a linguist, Crewe, you'll have heard of the