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That same afternoon, ‘The Little General’, only two or three miles from Paul Temple’s house, was the scene of a strange gathering. There were many men at Scotland Yard who would have given a year’s salary merely to have heard the conversation that took place in that mysterious Room 7.

Now that the body of Superintendent Harvey had been removed the inn had become famous, quite literally, overnight. Motorists, cyclists, and hikers arrived in a never-ceasing stream to see the place where the well-known police chief had met his unexpected fate. Detectives kept a close watch on all visitors, not that they entertained the hope of making an arrest, but they applied the old adage that a murderer always revisits the scene of his crime, and they did not intend to fail merely because they had neglected such elementary principles.

Chief Inspector Dale had made several visits to the inn. While in no way striving after the spectacular, he was spending as much time as he could on the ‘Midland Mysteries’, and he had delegated as much of his ordinary routine work at Scotland Yard as possible on to his subordinates. He had called on Paul Temple and had had long conversations with all who might know anything that had any bearing on Harvey’s death.

So far, however, the police had found no clue that might lead them towards a solution of the robberies and the death of Superintendent Harvey.

A few hours after Steve Trent and Paul Temple had been discussing the mysterious and elusive Max Lorraine, Dr. Milton was sitting, together with two other men, in Room 7 at ‘The Little General’. Horace Daley, the innkeeper, hovered vaguely in the background. But the innkeeper was not his normal ebullient self. He now very definitely yielded precedence to Dr. Milton, who was in full charge of the proceedings.

‘Is that quite clear, Dixie?’ the doctor was saying.

‘Yes, it seems quite clear,’ answered the man known as “Dixie”. ‘Diana will be parked at the corner of Regent Street. I’ve got to get from the jeweller’s to the car – pass the stuff over – and then mingle with the crowd in front of the dress shop.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Milton agreed. ‘And stay there,’ he ordered; ‘don’t make any attempt to sneak away until the crowd moves!’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t!’ said Dixie.

‘Have you looked the place over?’ inquired the doctor.

‘Yes. I had a look round this morning.’ Dixie paused. ‘Not very difficult. I should be out in a little under seven minutes.’

‘Good.’ Dr. Milton turned to the man known as “Skid”. Both Skid and Dixie were young men, not more than twenty-five, or twenty-six. Both were wearing cheap, ready-made lounge suits. Skid was a sharp-featured man who spoke quickly and never wasted his words. Dixie, on the other hand, to whom Dr. Milton had already been talking, was almost moonfaced. He appeared of a pleasanter disposition than Skid, and even showed traces of a real sense of humour. He was tall enough to be a guardsman, and was a good head taller than Skid.

Dr. Milton now took a map out of his pocket and opened it on one of the little tables. ‘Now, Skid, I want you to have a look at this map,’ he said. ‘You see Regent Street? That’s where Diana will park the car. Now take a look at the Parade. You can see the jeweller’s and the dress shop the moment you come round the bend. The Chief wants you to come round that corner at seven-forty precisely. You should reach the dress shop about seven-forty-one. Then let it rip! Got that?’

‘Yeah,’ replied Skid, implying that all this sort of thing was to Skid as easy as sleeping; ‘I got it all right.’

‘And we want a good job made of this,’ continued Dr. Milton. ‘No half-measures. Straight through the dress-shop window, you understand, Skid?’

Skid nodded. ‘Sure!’

‘We want noise, and plenty of it!’

‘Don’t worry,’ answered Skid, somewhat impatiently. ‘I’ll wake up the whole blasted town.’

‘Good,’ said the doctor, finally satisfied that his instructions had made the necessary impression.

Horace Daley moved towards the group and took out the home-made cigarette which hung down from the corner of his mouth.

‘Well, thank Gawd it’s you on the lorry, an’ not me!’ he said.

‘You’ll be all right, Skid, provided you keep your head,’ said the doctor again. ‘All you’ve got to do is make it look genuine.’

‘It’ll look genuine all right!’ Skid assured him.

‘Well, I hope so!’

Dixie had been regarding the scene with clear impatience over his face. In their own sphere they were competent workmen and he felt that Dr. Milton ought to be more certain of them. But he still had a question to ask.

‘Do I wait for the smash before I—’

Dr. Milton interrupted him. ‘No, at 7.40 get to work. You won’t have much time, but it shouldn’t take any longer than the Gloucester job.’

‘Don’t worry about me, Doc,’ said Dixie. ‘I’ll be out of there in no time. Have you got a list of the stuff?’

‘I’m expecting Diana with it.’ Dr. Milton paused significantly. ‘She went to see the Chief this morning.’

For a few moments no one spoke.

‘I say, Doc!’ It was Skid who broke the silence. ‘Who is this fellow who calls himself the Knave? He’s been running us around now for three months, and we haven’t even so much as had a glimpse of him. Don’t you think…?’

Dixie did not let him finish his sentence. ‘Well, it doesn’t worry me who the fellow is!’ he exclaimed. ‘He can be Sir Graham Forbes himself, as far as I’m concerned. All I know is, he can certainly organize. A cool forty thousand in three months. Boy, that’s what I call money!’

‘I’m not grumbling!’ replied Skid. ‘I’m just sort of curious, that’s all.’

‘Same ’ere!’ ejaculated Horace. ‘Who the ’ell is the Knave, Doc?’

Dr. Milton began to laugh. ‘You’ll find out my friends. All in good time! All in good time!’

Dixie came back to the matter in hand. ‘I say, Doc, where do you come into this Leamington business? Does Diana…?’

‘As soon as you pass the stuff to Diana, she drives to Warwick. I take it over at Warwick, and get the stuff back here. Horace does the rest. It’ll be in Amsterdam by Saturday.’

‘Any idea what cut we’re going to get out of this?’

‘I’m not sure, Skid,’ the doctor replied. ‘Frobisher’s got a pretty heavy stock. There’s a ring worth £6,000.’

‘Six thousand!’ repeated Skid, almost savouring the words with his tongue.

Dixie whistled. ‘The Knave can certainly pick ’em!’

Suddenly they heard a loud knock. Even the nonchalant Skid jumped.

‘There’s somebody at the panel!’ he whispered, with alarm.

Dr. Milton hastened to reassure him. ‘It’s only Diana.’

‘Blimey!’ was Horace’s comment. ‘You ain’t ’alf jumpy!’

In the far wall, away from the hall door, a panel moved, disclosing an open space. Then a figure appeared, and the four men recognized Diana Thornley. The opening in the wall was about a foot above the floor and some four feet high. Normally, it was completely invisible, effectively camouflaged by the old oak panelling.

Diana Thornley stepped out of the opening, and came towards the waiting men.

‘Sorry I’m late, Doc!’ she apologized. She turned to see Horace Daley closing the panel behind her.

‘No, don’t shut the panel!’

‘Why not?’ asked the doctor.

Quietly, almost with reverence in her voice, Diana answered him. ‘The Chief’s coming!’

‘Here?’ exclaimed Dr. Milton.

‘Yes.’

‘Oh!’ There was a pause. ‘Still I think we’d better shut it,’ he said, and signed to Horace Daley to do so.

‘He’s coming here? The Knave?’ asked Dixie, with surprise.

‘Yes,’ answered Diana. ‘He’s got the Birmingham money. It came through this morning.’

‘Blimey, that’s quick work!’ came from Skid. For the first time the air of bored indifference had fallen from him. He smiled very broadly.

‘Have you given them the Leamington details?’ Diana was speaking to Milton, yet there was a note of authority in her voice.

‘Yes.’

‘How do you feel about it, Skid? Think you can manage the smash all right?’

A smile spread across Skid’s face, and he rubbed his hands.

‘As easy as falling off a log!’

‘Good,’ said Diana, obviously pleased, ‘but we want as much row as possible, remember that!’

‘Sure.’

‘And don’t forget to dash back to the shop, Dixie,’ she continued. ‘There’s bound to be a crowd.’

‘O.K.,’ was the reply. ‘Have you got a list of the stuff?’

Diana opened her handbag. From its capacious depths, she extracted three folded quarto sheets of paper. It was a list of the articles about which they had inquired, complete with their values. She passed it across to Dixie. He looked down the list, page after page.

‘Any good, Dixie?’ inquired Horace somewhat anxiously.

‘Any good,’ repeated Dixie with a wealth of intonation in his voice. ‘Any good—’

At that moment, another knock came from the mysterious panel. It was Horace this time who looked round in alarm. ‘What’s that?’ he asked nervously.

‘It’s the Chief,’ Diana informed him. ‘Open the panel, Doc.’

Dr. Milton walked quickly over to the wall and fingered the oak panelling. Presently the panel began to move.

Dr. Milton stepped forward.

In an impressive voice, he made his announcement.

‘Gentlemen, meet the Knave!’

Absolute astonishment greeted his words. For a few seconds, no one spoke.

‘The Knave, but—’ said Horace Daley at last.

Then they all began to speak at once.

‘I thought you said the Chief was a—’ Skid was not allowed to complete his sentence. Dixie’s amazement made him almost shriek his surprise.

‘But—but this isn’t the Knave!’ he shouted. ‘Why…Why—’

Dr. Milton looked round with satisfaction and amusement.

‘Surprised, gentlemen?’ he asked. ‘Surprised?’

Again he looked round, this time into each of their astonished faces. Then he began to laugh, slowly, deeply.