"When do you leave?" he asked.

"The day after to-morrow," said Phillopolis. "I think I'll go down into Italy for a year. I've made enough money now to live without worrying about work, and I mean to enjoy myself."

Pinto looked at the man with interest. Here, at any rate, was one without a conscience. The knowledge that he had acc.u.mulated his fortune through the miseries of innocent girls shipped to foreign dance halls did not weigh greatly upon his mind.

"Lucky you!" said Pinto, as they walked out of the club together. "Where do you live, by the way?"

"In Somers Street, Soho. It is just round the corner," said Phillopolis.

"Will you walk there with me?"

Pinto hesitated.

"Yes, I will," he said.

He wanted to see the sort of establishment which Phillopolis maintained. They chatted together till they came to the street, and then Phillopolis stopped.

"Do you mind if I go ahead?" he said. "I have a--friend there who might be worried by your coming."

Pinto smiled to himself.

"Certainly," he said. "I'll wait on the opposite side of the road until you are ready."

The man lived above a big furniture shop, and admission was gained by a side door. Pinto watched him pa.s.s through the portals and heard the door close. He was a long time gone, and evidently his "friend" was unprepared to receive visitors at that hour, or else Phillopolis himself had some reason for postponing the invitation.

The reason for the delay was explained in a sensational manner. Suddenly the door opened and a man came out. He was followed by two others and between them was Phillopolis, and the street-lamp shone upon the steel handcuffs on his wrists. Pinto drew back into a doorway and watched.

Phillopolis was talking--it would perhaps be more accurate to say that he was raving at the top of his voice, cursing and sobbing in a frenzy.

"You planted them--it is a plant!" he yelled. "You devils!"

"Are you coming quietly?" said a voice. "Or are you going to make trouble? Take him, Dempsey!"

Phillopolis seemed to have forgotten Pinto's presence, for he went out of the street without once calling upon him to testify to his character and innocence. Pinto waited till he was gone, and then strolled across the road to the detective who stood before the door lighting his pipe.

"Good evening," he said, "has there been some trouble?"

The officer looked at him suspiciously. But Pinto was in evening dress and talked like a gentleman, and the policeman thawed.

"Nothing very serious, sir," he said, "except for the man. He's a fence."

"A what?" said Pinto with well-feigned innocence.

"A receiver of stolen property. We found his lodgings full of stuff."

"Good Heavens!" gasped Pinto.

"Yes, sir," said the man, delighted that he had created a sensation. "I never saw so much valuable property in one room in my life. There was a big burglary in Regent Street last night. A jeweller's shop was cleared out of about twenty thousand pounds' worth of necklaces, and we found every bit of it here to-night. We've always suspected this man," he went on confidentially. "n.o.body knew how he got his living, but from information we received to-day we were able to catch him red-handed."

"Thank you," said Pinto faintly, and walked slowly home, for now he no longer feared to meet the colonel. He had something to tell him, something that would inspire even Boundary with apprehension.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE VOICE IN THE ROOM

As Silva antic.i.p.ated, the colonel was up and waiting for him. He was playing Patience on his desk and looked up with a scowl as the Portuguese entered.

"So you've been skulking, have you, Pinto?" he began, but the other interrupted him.

"You can keep all that talk for another time," he said. "They've taken Phillopolis!"

The colonel swept his cards aside with a quick, nervous gesture.

"Taken Phillopolis?" he repeated slowly. "On what charge?"

"For being the receiver of stolen property," said the other. "They found the proceeds of the Regent Street burglary in his apartments."

The colonel opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, and there was silence for two or three minutes.

"I see. They have planted the stuff on him, have they?"

"What do you mean?" asked Pinto.

"You don't suppose that Phillopolis is a fence, do you?" said the colonel scornfully. "Why, it is a business that a man must spend the whole of his life at before he can be successful. No, Phillopolis knows no more about that burglary or the jewels than you or I. The stuff has been planted in his rooms."

"But the police don't do that sort of thing."

"Who said the police did it?" snarled the colonel. "Of course they didn't. They haven't the sense. That's Mr. Jack o' Judgment once more, and this time, Pinto, he's real dangerous."

"Jack o' Judgment!" gasped Pinto. "But would he commit a burglary?"

The colonel laughed scornfully.

"Would he commit murder? Would he hang Raoul? Would he shoot you? Don't ask such d.a.m.n-fool questions, Silva! Of course it was Jack o' Judgment.

I tell you, the night you were in Yorkshire making a mess of that Crotin business, Jack o' Judgment came here, to this very room, and told me that he would ruin us one by one, and that he would leave me to the last. He mentioned us all--you, Crewe, Selby----"

He stopped suddenly and scratched his chin.

"But not Lollie Marsh," he said. "That's queer, he never mentioned Lollie Marsh!"

He was deep in thought for a few moments, then he went on:

"So he's worked off Phillopolis, has he? Well, Phillopolis has got to take his medicine. I can do nothing for him."

"But surely he can prove----" began Pinto.

"What can he prove?" asked the other. "Can he prove how he earns his money? He's been taken with the goods; he hasn't that chance," he snapped his fingers. "I'll make a prophecy," he said: "Phillopolis will get five years' penal servitude, and nothing in the world can save him from that."