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the furniture was of tubular steel, filing cabinets and desk were of polished metal which looked like glass. There was concealed wall-lighting and a single desk-lamp, all of which were controlled by a main switch.
    Chatworth unbuttoned his mackintosh but did not take it off. He put his hat on the desk in front of him and looked up at Roger, who was standing a couple of yards from the desk without expression. Chatworth pushed his lips forward, deliberated, and then said harshly: “I am extremely disappointed in you, West.”
    â€œAnd I in you, sir,” said Roger, firmly.
    â€œThis is no occasion for back-chat!”
    â€œIt is a very serious matter for me,” Roger said, “and I don’t like the way it has been handled, sir. If a sergeant dealt with a parallel case in the same way I should severely reprimand him.”
    He had burned his boats, but Chatworth would think no worse of him for his attitude and it might enable him to force a hearing. He had won a minor triumph by getting into the room at all. He stood at ease, with one hand in his mackintosh pocket, and thought of the letter from ‘K’.
    Then Chatworth nearly floored him.
    â€œWho broke into your house while Abbott was there?”
    Roger took his hand from his pocket, drew a sharp breath and then, recovering, frowned and said with a fair simulation of surprise: “I don’t understand you, sir.”
    â€œYes you do,” snapped Chatworth. “While Abbott was in your house Lessing arrived and drummed on the piano while a man broke in through a first-floor window, and removed the evidence which Abbott went to find. Don’t lie to me, West. You think that was clever, but it was a mistake.”
    â€œIt’s news to me,” Roger insisted, quietly, “and to my knowledge there was never any evidence in my house which would convict me of accepting a bribe in my life. I don’t know where you got your information, nor how long I have been suspect, but I do know that I think the methods adopted to trap me are disgraceful. You appear to have prejudged me, you’ve denied me the right to enter a defence. My best course, I think, is to refer the matter to the Home Secretary.”
    â€œAre you trying to frighten me?” growled Chatworth.
    â€œI am giving you notice of my intention,” said Roger, “which is more than you did for me.” He paused but Chatworth did not answer, he simply sat back and stared at him; the desk-lamp shone on his polished cranium.
    Looking at a man who had often been friendly and with whom he had worked for several years, one whom he had almost regarded with hero-worship, Roger felt a quickening tension. Until then, he had thought it possible – just possible – that Chatworth had deliberately planned to put him in bad odour, so that he could work surreptitiously. The last hope had faded. It should have been killed when he had found ‘K’s’ note, which was proof of evil intent.
    Now he saw the situation for what it was – absurd but highly dangerous. Chatworth was not an ogre, but a reasonable human being whose gruff manner was largely pose. Roger stepped forward and leaned against the desk, both hands planted on it.
    â€œI know that you must have strong reasons for what you’ve done,” he said, “but you might at least give me the opportunity to answer the allegations. My record at the Yard should entitle me to that, if nothing more. The case must be serious – apart from the ordinary seriousness of accepting bribes – or you wouldn’t have been so arbitrary. You sent to my house believing you would find what you wanted. You failed. Abbott appears to have told you some cock-and-bull story about what happened there, but really, sir, it’s fantastic.” He saw Chatworth going even redder but did not pause. “If I were guilty of anything like this, I wouldn’t be fool enough to keep evidence in my