t.

"Any result from the offer of a reward for Goldenburg?"

A flicker of amusement dwelt in Heldon Foyle's blue eyes. "Yes. He has
been seen by different people within an hour or two of each other in
Glasgow, Southampton, Gloucester, Cherbourg, Plymouth, and Cardiff. Our
information on that point is not precisely helpful. Of course, we've got
the local police making inquiries in each case, but I don't anticipate
they will find out much. Still, it will keep 'em amused."

The necessity of a conference broke up further conversation. Gathered in
the building were some thirty or forty departmental chiefs of the
C.I.D., the picked men of their profession. Most of them were divisional
detective inspectors who were in charge of districts, and some few were
men who had special duties. They were ranged about tables in a lofty
room, its green distempered walls hung with stiff photographs of living
and retired officials. Men of all types were there, from the spruce,
smartly groomed detectives of the West End to the burly, ill-dressed
detectives of the East. Between them they spoke every known language.
Here was Penny, who had specialised in forgeries; Brown, who knew every
trick of coiners; Malby, the terror of race-course sharps; Menzies, who
had as keen a scent for the gambling hell as a hound for a fox; Poole,
who was intimate with the ways of railway thieves and shoplifters. Not
one but thoroughly understood his profession, and knew where to look for
his information.

Foyle took the chair, and the buzz of conversation became general. It
was a business conference of experts. Views were exchanged on concrete
problems; the movements of well-known criminals discussed.
"Velvet-fingered Ned" had disappeared from Islington and reappeared in
Brixton. "Tony" Smith was due out of prison. Mike O'Brien had patched up
the peace with "Yid" Foster, and when they got together----

So the talk went on, and so every district learned what was taking place
in other districts. The superintendent sat silent for a while,
listening. At last his smooth voice broke in.

"The man Ivan, whose description was circulated, is not to be touched
now. Tell your men to let him alone if they come across him."

There was a deep chorus, "Very good, sir," and Foyle, with a nod of
dismissal, left the room. He stopped to make an inquiry in the clerk's
office, and passing along the corridor unlocked a door and pressed a
bell.

In under half an hour a big labo