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not really an answer, and was certainly not satisfying. There was more in Brett’s mind than he chose to discuss. It might be of little significance, yet Palfrey was uneasy. Why should Brett keep anything back? Why add even a little to a mystery already deep enough?
    â€˜It’s probably my imagination,’ thought Palfrey.
    â€˜So it’s up to me,’ he said to Drusilla. ‘We’re going to have a busy night tonight, my sweet!’
    Charles Lumsden was due to call at the Chelsea flat at half past six. Bobby Fairweather was not likely to arrive until after dinner.
    It was a fine afternoon, warmer than it had been for some days, and they walked to Chelsea. Palfrey kept a watchful eye about him, but did not think that they were followed. At Victoria he bought an evening paper, glanced at the Stop Press, and stopped in his tracks. Drusilla looked down, and read:
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    Body of Dutch Surgeon Piet van Doorn found in the estuary of the Schelde in early hours this morning. — Reuter.
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    There was nothing they could usefully say.
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    Charles Lumsden surprised them.
    He was short and stocky and looked in good condition. His eyes were the same bright grey as his father’s, and had something of the same penetrating directness. He was dressed well, with a touch of exaggeration at the shoulders and the waist, but he was not the feckless type Palfrey had feared and expected. He showed a genuine curiosity. The Old Man had let out one or two intriguing oddments, and rather wanted him to string along with Palfrey. The Old Man probably thought he needed to be taken away from the fleshpots for a bit, and he, Charles, would not deny that. The smile which accompanied the admission was frank and friendly.
    Palfrey told him the story, omitting only the word ‘radium’. He made mystery of the thing they were looking for, a mystery which seemed to amuse Charles.
    â€˜It sounds all right,’ said Charles, when Palfrey had finished. ‘This isn’t going to be a pleasure cruise, though, is it?’
    â€˜Not exactly,’ said Palfrey.
    â€˜Is it tied up with the business in the papers?’ asked Charles. ‘I mean, you and van Doorn. They pulled the old boy out of the River Schelde, didn’t they?’ He was quite serious, there was nothing flippant about this ‘old boy’ as there was about the Old Man.
    â€˜It’s probably connected with that,’ said Palfrey.
    â€˜I thought so,’ said Charles. ‘And I expect the Old Man rang you up and persuaded you to take me along for the hardening process. The question is, am I your man?’
    â€˜The question is whether you’ll come,’ said Palfrey.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Charles.
    They shook hands on it, and Palfrey dispensed drinks.
    It was obvious that Drusilla was also well impressed.
    Charles left when it was practically dark. Palfrey saw him to the front door, and when he had turned into the street, went after him. In the gloom he saw a shadowy figure moving in Charles’s wake, but he could not get close enough for a clear view. He continued to walk to the end of the street. Charles turned right, so did the shadowy figure.
    At half past nine there was no sign of Bobby Fairweather, which was disappointing. Just as the half-hour struck the telephone rang, and Palfrey heard Old Lumsden’s voice.
    â€˜I’ve been waiting to hear from one of you,’ said Lumsden. ‘Is Charles still with you?’
    â€˜No,’ said Palfrey, and felt the first tremor of alarm.
    â€˜He hasn’t come back here,’ said Lumsden.
    â€˜He told me he would go straight back and tell you that we had clinched the deal,’ said Palfrey.
    â€˜I see,’ said Lumsden, and did not speak for some time. ‘I see, Palfrey. I hope nothing’s happened to the boy.’ There was another pause. ‘Well, I can’t say I wasn’t warned. Have you any idea where he might