thoughts, a heavy hand was laid upon his
shoulder.

He started. Inspector Sheffield stood beside him.

"Who was in that cab?" he rapped.

Sheard realised that the moment to which he had long looked forward with
dread was come. He had been caught red-handed. At last Severac Bablon
had dared too greatly, and he, Sheard, must pay the price of that
indiscretion.

"Why do you ask--and in that tone?"

"Mr. Sheard," said the detective grimly, "I've had my eye on you for a
long while, as you must be well aware. You may not be aware that but for
me you'd have been arrested long ago! I'm past the time when sensational
arrests appeal to me, though. I'm out to hide scandals, not to turn the
limelight on 'em. You're a well-known man, and it would break you, I
take it, if I hauled you up for complicity? But I've got my
responsibilities, too, remember; and I warn you--I warn you solemnly--if
you bandy words with me now, I'll have you in Marlborough Street inside
ten minutes!"

The buttons were off, and Sheard felt the point at his throat. For there
was no mistaking the grim earnestness of the man from Scotland Yard. The
kindly blue eyes were grown hard as steel, and in them the pressman read
that upon his next words rested his whole career. A lie could avail his
friend nothing; it meant his own ruin.

"Severac Bablon!" he said.

"I knew that!" replied Sheffield; "you did well to admit it! Where has
he gone?"

"I have no idea."

"Don't take any chances, sir! I'm tired of the responsibility of
shielding the fools who know him! If you give me your word on that, I'll
take it."

"I give you my word. I was unable to hear his directions to the driver."

"Very good. There are other things I might ask you--but I know you'd
refuse to answer, and then I'd have no alternative. So I won't.
Good-day."

"Good-day, Inspector. And thank you." Sheffield nodded shortly and
walked up to the driver of the next waiting cab.

"What number was the man who drove away last?"

"LH-00896, sir."

"Know where he went?"

"No, sir; but not far. He told a pal o' mine--the chauffeur of Mr.
Rohscheimer's car, there, sir--that he'd be back in seven minutes."

"Good!" said Sheffield.

Matters were befalling as well as he could have hoped; for he had come
out too late to have followed the cab. He glanced at his watch. Provided
the man picked up no fare on his way back, he was due in three minutes.
The detective strolled off towards Belgrave Road