She held out a slim hand. “I want to thank you,” she said simply.

“Better go now,” he said, “before I change my mind.”

He held the door open for her and stood for a while in thought watching her as she descended the stairs. Another door opened, and a man casually followed her. The mechanics of investigation have to be obeyed, and Labar had no intention of calling off her shadow.

He returned to his desk, and picked up a document. But his agility of mind had deserted him. He saw nothing but a pair of grey eyes⁠—eyes plaintive, protesting, pleading. For ten minutes he sat thus, lost to the world. A sharp, imperative knock at the door, followed by the swift entrance of one of his men, recalled him to himself.

“I’m sorry, sir,” gasped the intruder, “Miss Noelson, Miss Noelson⁠—”