He considered as he puffed at his cigarette. These reports now⁠—why should he worry unduly about them if another man was to handle the case? If it was his own work, of course he would have to do it. But why worry until he was certain. He put a call through to Scotland Yard. Winter was more genial than he had been at the early morning interview.

“That you, Labar? How are things making out? You’ll have to hump yourself on this job, my mannie.”

That was all right, then. For the time being at any rate he was not to be superseded on the investigation. That had looked a probability when the heads had left him to it at Streetly House. This, however, made certain. He answered cheerfully.

“I’ll do my best, sir; I’ve got hopes.”

“Hopes won’t carry you far. I’ve seen hopes land a man in a ditch.”