“It would, of course, be quite easy to⁠—remove you,” she continued, “but I am quite sentimental sometimes. I pleaded for you. You have a nice little wife somewhere, have you not? And it would please the poor little man who is dead to know that you were not to be killed. I always liked him, you know. He was clever⁠—but clever! Had it not been a case of four against one I honestly believe he might have been too much for us. I confess it frankly⁠—he was my master! I sent a wreath to the funeral as a token of my admiration⁠—an enormous one of crimson roses. Crimson roses express my temperament.”

I listened in silence and a growing distaste.

“You have the look of a mule when it puts its ears back and kicks. Well, I have delivered my warning. Remember this, the third warning will come by the hand of the Destroyer⁠—”

She made a sign, and the car whirled away rapidly. I noted the number mechanically, but without the hope that it would lead to anything. The Big Four were not apt to be careless in details.