"I am entirely indifferent. If you think it worth while, apply for one.

As soon as it is presented, the police--are--welcome--to--any-- discoveries--they--may--make."

The Seraph spoke with the quiet scorn of injured innocence. I saw a shadow of uncertainty settle on Nigel's face. The Seraph must have seen it, too; we preserved a strategic silence until uncertainty had matured into horrid doubt. I felt sorry for Nigel, as I feel sorry for any successful egoist in the toils of anticipated ridicule.

"It would be quicker to clear the matter up now," he said.

"My whole day is at your disposal."

"But mine is not. What is that room?"

"A spare bedroom, now occupied by Toby, if you ask for information."

Nigel started to cross the room.

"I like to check all verbal information," he remarked.

The Seraph had shorter distance to cover, and was standing with his back to the door when Nigel got there.

"I allow no unauthorised person to search my rooms without my leave,"

he said.

"You cannot always prevent it."

"I can in this case."

"We are four to one."

"You are one to two."

"My mistake, no doubt." He waved a hand round the room to indicate his allies.

"Assuredly your mistake, if you think Toby will stand by and let you search my rooms without my leave, or that any one of the others would raise a finger to help you."

Not one of his three allies had moved a step to support him. Nigel was impressed. Without retreating from his position he tried the effect of bluff.

"You forget the circumstances are exceptional. My sister has been spirited away, and so has Phil's. If we think you know the whereabouts of the woman who kidnapped them, we shall neither of us hesitate to employ timely physical force on you, perhaps inflict salutary physical pain."

"You may try, if you like."

"If I try, I shall succeed."

"You don't really think that, you know."

Gartside felt it was time to restore the peace. Walking up to Nigel, he led him firmly back to his place at the table and motioned the Seraph to his old position in the armchair by the fireplace. There was a long, awkward silence. Then Culling crossed the room, and sat on the arm of the Seraph's chair.

"Ye're white and ill, Seraph," he said, "and ye know I'm not the man would badger you. We're in a hole, and maybe ye can give us a hoist out of it. Do ye, or do ye not, know where Miss Davenant's hiding herself?"

The Seraph looked him steadily in his eyes.

"Yes."

"Well, is she, or is she not, in these rooms?"

"Would _you_ like to search them?"

"Damn it, no, man! Give us yer word, and that's enough."

For a fraction of time the Seraph gazed at the faces of Culling, Philip and Gartside, weighing the characters and measuring the men.

"It's not enough for Rawnsley," he said.

"It'ull have to be."

"He likes to check all verbal information."

Culling shook his clenched fists in the air and involved us all in a comprehensive curse. The Seraph lit himself a cigarette, blew out the match with a deliberation Nigel could not have surpassed, and addressed the company.

"We seem to have reached a deadlock," he began. "Shall I offer a solution? The four of you come here and charge me with harbouring the woman who is supposed to have made away with Miss Rawnsley and Miss Roden. Very good. Every man is free to entertain any suspicions he likes, and to ventilate them--provided he doesn't forget his manners.

Three of you behaved like gentlemen, the fourth followed his own methods. I should like to oblige those three. Rawnsley, you have menaced me with personal violence, and threatened me with a search warrant. You have done this in my own library. If you will apologise, and undertake not to enter these rooms again or to molest me here or anywhere else, and if you will further undertake not yourself to apply--or incite any one else to apply--for a warrant to search the flat, I shall have pleasure in accompanying Gartside wherever he chooses to go, unlocking any doors that may be locked, and offering him every facility in inspecting every nook and cranny in these rooms.

As you may not accept verbal information even from him, I shall have pleasure in extending my offer to Culling. The one will be able to check the other."

He blew three smoke-rings and waited for an answer.

There was another moment of general discomfort. Nigel jibbed at the idea of apologising, Gartside and Culling would have done anything to avoid accepting the offer; from Philip's miserable fidgeting I could see that he had been persuaded into coming against his better judgment. For myself, I waited as a condemned man waits for the drop to fall. It was bound to come in a few seconds' time, but--illogically enough--I had ceased to dread it. My one fear was that Joyce should betray herself by one of those pitiful moans that had mingled with my dreams and vexed my sleep throughout the night. To this hour I can remember thinking how horror-stricken I should be if that sound broke out again. It had begun to get on my nerves.... The discovery itself was inevitable; I could imagine no trick or illusion that would enable the Seraph to steer his inquisitors past one of the principal rooms in the flat.

"I apologise for any offence I may have given, and I undertake all that you ask."

It was not gracefully done, but the Seraph accepted the words for the spirit.

"Come on, and let's get it over!" Culling exclaimed, jumping up and cramming his hat on the back of his head. With sinking heart I saw the three of them framed in the doorway, Gartside's huge form towering over the other two.

"Devilish sorry about the whole business," I heard him begin as the door closed. It was opened again for a moment as the Seraph reminded me where the drinks were kept, and suggested I should compound a cocktail. Then it closed finally.

Outside in the hall Culling added his contribution to the general apology.

"Come quietly," was all the Seraph would answer. "I hope she's sleeping."

Both men paused abruptly and gazed first at the Seraph and then at each other. He returned their gaze unwaveringly, surprised apparently that they should be surprised. Then he led them wide-eyed with expectation across the hall; wide-eyed they watched him bend and listen, tap and gently open a bedroom door. The nurse rose from her chair at the bedside and placed a finger on her lips--

"Praise God, she's sleeping!" murmured Paddy Culling, with instinctive reverence removing his hat. Gartside looked for a moment at the flushed cheeks and parched lips, then turned away as the Seraph closed the door.

"Mustn't go back yet," he said. "We'd better look at one or two more rooms just to fill in time."

One of the shortest recorded councils of war was held in the bathroom.

Culling, with his quick, superficial sympathy had already made up his mind, but Gartside stood staring out of the window with head bent and hands locked behind his back, struggling and torn between an unwillingness to hurt Joyce and a deep hungry desire to bring Sylvia safely out of her unknown hiding-place.

"You'll kill her if you move her," the Seraph remarked, dispassionately but with careful choice of time. Gartside's foot tapped the floor irresolutely. "Toby's engaged to marry her," he added softly.

With a sigh and a shrug of the shoulders Gartside turned to Culling, nodded without speaking, and linked arms with the Seraph.