ody is not going to be me," said Crewe quietly. "I did my
part of the business. Let Pinto have a cut."

Pinto Silva shook his head.

"We'll drop him," he said decisively, and for the first time Crewe
realised how dominating a factor Pinto had become in the government of
the band.

"We'll drop him----"

Suddenly he stopped and craned his head round.

It was he who had heard something near the door, and now with noiseless
steps he tiptoed across the room to the door, and gripping the handle,
opened it suddenly. A gun had appeared in his hand, but he did not use
it. Instead, he darted through the open doorway and they heard the sound
of a struggle. Presently he came back, dragging by the collar a man.

"Got him!" he said triumphantly, and hurled his captive into the nearest
chair.

CHAPTER IX

THE COLONEL EMPLOYS A DETECTIVE

Their prisoner was a stranger. He was a lean, furtive-looking man of
thirty-five, below middle height, respectably dressed, and at first
glance, the colonel, whose hobby was distinguishing at a look the social
standing of humanity, was unable to place him.

Crewe locked the door.

"Now then," said the colonel, "what the devil were you doing listening
at my door? Was that his game, Mr. Silva?"

"That was his game," said the other, brushing his hands.

"What have you got to say before I send for the police?" asked the
colonel virtuously. "What have you got to say for yourself? Sneaking
about a gentleman's flat, listening at keyholes!"

The man, who had been roughly handled, had risen and was putting his
collar straight. If he had been taken aback by the sudden onslaught, he
was completely self-possessed now.

"If you want to send for the police, you'd better start right away," he
said; "you've got a telephone, haven't you? Perhaps I'll have a job for
the policeman, too. You've no right to assault me, my friend," he said,
addressing Pinto resentfully.

"What were you doing?" asked the colonel.

"Find out," said the man sharply.

The colonel stroked his long moustache, and his manner underwent a
change.

"Now look here, old man," he said almost jovially; "we're all friends
here, and we don't want any trouble. I daresay you've made a mistake,
and my friend has made a mistake. Have a whisky and soda?"

The man grinned crooked.

"Not me, thank you," he said emphatically; "if I remember rightly, there
was a young gentleman who took a glass of water in North Lambeth Police