"Oh, I don't say that, Mr. Froelich, but sometimes things happen on these
occasions, and it's my duty to be on the safe side. I'm sorry to
inconvenience you."

"Come on in, then." Bobby led the way into his dressing-room, and in a
few minutes he was rolling off with his strange companion to some
destination unknown.

After the most uncomfortable night Bobby had ever spent in his life he
was escorted next morning by Sub-inspector Dane to Scotland Yard. He was
ushered into a waiting-room, and there he sat with the inspector, waiting
until he should be summoned before the Assistant Commissioner. Had he
been able to see what was going on in the adjoining room, he would have
been exceedingly surprised.

The Assistant Commissioner, one of those public servants whose quiet,
unobtrusive manner covers a strong character and a great efficiency, was
sitting at his table talking to Harold Clancey. They were in earnest
consultation.

"Then I understand, Captain Clancey," said the Assistant Commissioner,
"that this lady has got clear off?"

Clancey smiled serenely.

"Oh, rather! Address: Hotel des Indes, The Hague--quite a comfortable
place and quite an important German espionage centre."

"I gather that our man was too late."