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but not for long. The making of quick decisions was the whole reason for his success, and he didn’t mind how much a thing cost if he knew it was worth it. He had no fear that Stannard would attempt to double-cross him. Among the other purposes which it served, Danny’s formed a working headquarters for the Snake’s Boys; Stannard could not help knowing the reputation of the gang, and he must also know that they had worked Hayn’s vengeance on traitors before, No-there was no chance that Stannard would dare to try a double cross… . “I’ll give you a check to-night,” said Hayn.
    Stannard was effusively grateful. “You won’t lose by it,” he promised. “Templar’s a speculation, granted, but I’ve met him only once. But there are other people with mints of money, people I’ve known for years, that I can vouch for absolutely… .“He went on talking, but Hayn only listened with half an ear, for he was anxious to turn the conversation on to another topic, and he did so at the first opportunity.
    Under pretence of taking a fatherly interest in his new agent’s affairs, he plied him with questions about his private life and interests. Most of the information which he elicited was stale news to him, for he had long since taken the precaution of finding out everything of importance that there was to know about his man; but in these new enquiries Mr. Hayn contrived to make Stannard’s fiancee the center of interrogation. It was very cleverly and surreptitiously done, but the fact remains that at the end of half an hour, by this process of indirect questioning Hayn had discovered all that he wanted to know about the life and habits of Gwen Chandler. “Do you think you could get her along here to supper on Thursday?” he suggested. “The only time I’ve met her, if you remember, I think you rather prejudiced her against me. It’s up to you to put that right.”
    “I’ll see what I can do,” said Stannard.
    After that, his point won, Hayn had no further interest in directing the conversation, and they were chatting desultorily when Simon Templar arrived.
    The Saint, after weighing the relative merits of full evening dress or an ordinary lounge suit for the auspicious occasion, had decided on a compromise, and was sporting a dinner jacket; but he wore it, as might have been expected, as if he had been an ambassador paying a state visit in full regalia.
    “Hullo, Jerry, dear angel!” he hailed Stannard cheerfully. Then he noticed Mr. Hayn, and turned with outstretched hand. “And you must be Uncle Ambrose,” he greeted that gentleman cordially. “Pleased to meet you… . That’s right, isn’t it, Jerry? This is the uncle who died and left all his money to the Cats’ Home? … Sorry to see you looking so well, Uncle Ambrose, old mongoose!”
    Mr. Hayn seemed somewhat taken aback. This man did not wear his clothes in the manner traditionally asociated with raw Colonials with money to burn; and if his speech was typical of that of strong silent men from the great open spaces of that vintage, Mr. Hayn decided that the culture of Picadilly must have spread farther abroad into the British Empire than Cecil Rhodes had ever hoped in his wildest dreams. Mr. Hayn had never heard of Rhodes-to him, Rhodes, was an island where they bred red hens-but if he had heard of Rhodes he might reasonably have expressed his surprise like that.
    He looked round to Jerry Stannard with raised eyebrows, and Stannard tapped his forehead and lifted his glass significantly.
    “So we’re going to see a real live gambling hell!” said the Saint, drawing up a chair. “Isn’t this fun? Let’s all have a lot of drinks on the strength of it!”
    He called for liqueurs, and paid for them from a huge wad of bank-notes which he tugged from his pocket. Mr. Hayn’s eyes lit up at the sight, and he decided that there were excuses for Templar’s eccentricity. He leant forward and set himself out to be charming. The Saint, however, had