It was at such a time that Detective Sergeant Malone, presuming on many years association, was wont to observe that he was no kid glove John. But at the moment he was too moved for remonstrance.

“We’ve struck it, guv’nor,” he declared huskily. “This has put the tin hat on it this has.”

Labar lit a cigarette wearily. “Tell me the worst,” he said.

“They’ve made a clean sweep of Streetly House. Old Gertstein’s foaming at the mouth. Quarter of a million of pounds worth of jewels and curios melted away as clean as a conjuring trick. I could smell Larry Hughes a thousand miles off in this.” His tone was gloomy, for he knew something of Labar’s troubles. “Nice lookout for us, an’ the Yard not throwing any flowers our way as it is.”