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Treasury,’ he said. ‘To this day he does not know that it was despatched.’
    There was silence for a moment or so after the Frenchman’s voice had died away. Then W.T. spoke.
    â€˜I understand the powers of this society, monsieur,’ he said, ‘but surely even it cannot protect a man wanted for murder.’
    â€˜But no, certainly not, monsieur.’ Le Gris spoke emphatically. ‘Besides, the society does not defend its servants. That is part of the agreement under which they are employed. They are paidenormous salaries on the condition that they take the full responsibility of their own actions. Besides, the society has its own methods of dealing with unsatisfactory servants.’
    W.T. looked up sharply, for the first time a flicker of surprise passing over his face.
    â€˜How do you mean?’ he said.
    Le Gris shrugged his shoulders eloquently. ‘They disappear, monsieur,’ he said simply. ‘For seven years we thought that some such fate had overtaken Latte Cellini, but two days ago he reappeared in Paris with the English police on his heels. Can you offer us any explanation?’
    â€˜Very little,’ W.T. admitted. ‘All we know for certain about Cellini is that for the last seven years he has been living with an Englishman in a Kentish village in the capacity of private secretary or confidential servant.’
    â€˜Impossible!’
    W.T. smiled dourly. ‘It doesn’t sound true, I admit,’ he said, ‘especially after your most valuable information concerning his past, but these, as far as we know them, are the facts. The Englishman – Crowther – was murdered two days ago, and the evidence, although not absolutely conclusive, points very strongly to the Italian. You know where he is?’
    Le Gris nodded.
    â€˜Yes, monsieur, I do,’ he said. ‘That is the trouble of it. I know where he is, but I cannot take you to him.’
    W.T. frowned. ‘I am afraid I misunderstand you,’ he said a little stiffly.
    Le Gris leant back in his chair, and his pale finely chiselled face looked like an ivory carving in the dusk.
    â€˜When Cellini returned to France, monsieur, I feel sure that he had no idea that he would be followed,’ he said slowly, ‘for his first move was to go straight to the house of the head of the society – a man whose name I beg you will not ask me to divulge. But believe me, an arrest in that house is an impossibility. For political as well as social reasons, monsieur, it would be unwise in the extreme. We have made our plans. To disturb anything now would be to impede the course of justice in the future. Aslong as Cellini remains actually under the protection of this society – under its roof – we can do nothing.’
    W.T. hesitated.
    â€˜But surely, monsieur, if I might venture to suggest it, a word to the – ah – distinguished member of the society would result in the expulsion of Cellini from the household, and we could then proceed in the ordinary way.’
    Le Gris sighed.
    â€˜That could be done,’ he said, ‘but we prefer not. The police like to assume, even in private, a complete ignorance of the society. When a man is in this particular house of which I speak he is to all intents and purposes out of the world altogether; monsieur must understand the situation.’
    â€˜I do,’ said the old man. ‘I do indeed, and I thank you, Monsieur le Gris, for your very valuable assistance; but what am I to do?’
    â€˜I was coming to that, monsieur.’ Le Gris sat forward in his chair. ‘There is in the Rue d’Aramis a little jeweller’s shop kept by an old relative of Cellini’s. The man is sure to return there. We will have the place watched, and as soon as he enters the doorway you shall be informed.’
    W.T. bowed, but his eyes had by no means a satisfied expression in their depths.
    â€˜Meanwhile, I wait in Paris,’