Some moments of silence followed. Sounds of traffic from the Embankment penetrated dimly to the room of the Assistant Commissioner; ringing of tram bells and that vague sustained noise which is created by the whirring of countless wheels along hard pavements. Finally:  
“You have selected a curious moment to retire, Chief Inspector,” said the Assistant Commissioner. “Your prospects were never better. No doubt you have considered the question of your pension?”
 
“I know what I'm giving up, sir,” replied Kerry.
 
The Assistant Commissioner slowly revolved in his chair and gazed sadly at the speaker. Chief Inspector Kerry met his glance with that fearless, unflinching stare which lent him so formidable an appearance.
 
“You might care to favor me with some explanation which I can lay before the Chief Commissioner?”
 
Kerry snapped his white teeth together viciously.
 
“May I take it, sir, that you accept my resignation?”
 
“Certainly not. I will place it before the responsible authority. I can do no more.”
 
“Without disrespect, sir, I want to speak to you as man to man. As a private citizen I could do it. As your subordinate I can't.”
 
The Assistant Commissioner sighed, stroking his neatly brushed hair with one large hand.
 
“Equally without disrespect, Chief Inspector,” he murmured, “it is news for me to learn that you have ever refrained from speaking your mind either in my presence or in the presence of any man.”
 
Kerry smiled, unable wholly to conceal a sense of gratified vanity.
 
“Well, sir,” he said, “you have my resignation before you, and I'm prepared to abide by the consequences. What I want to say is this: I'm a man that has worked hard all his life to earn the respect and the trust of his employers. I am supposed to be Chief Inspector of this department, and as Chief Inspector I'll kow-tow to nothing on two legs once I've been put in charge of a case. I work right in the sunshine. There's no grafting about me. I draw my salary every week, and any man that says I earn sixpence in the dark is at liberty to walk right in here and deposit his funeral expenses. If I'm supposed to be under a cloud—there's my reply. But I demand a public inquiry.”
 
At ever increasing speed, succinctly, viciously he rapped out the words. His red face grew more red, and his steel-blue eyes more fierce. The Assistant Commissioner exhibited bewilderment. As the high tones ceased:
 
“Really, Chief Inspector,” he said, “you pain and surprise me. I do not profess to be ignorant of the cause of your—annoyance. But perhaps if I acquaint you with the facts of my own position in the matter you will be open to reconsider your decision.”
 
Kerry cleared his throat loudly.
 
“I won't work in the dark, sir,” he declared truculently. “I'd rather be a pavement artist and my own master than Chief Inspector with an unknown spy following me about.”
 
“Quite so—quite so.” The Assistant Commissioner was wonderfully patient. “Very well, Chief Inspector. It cannot enhance my personal dignity to admit the fact, but I'm nearly as much in the dark as yourself.”
 
“What's that, sir?” Kerry sat bolt upright, staring at the speaker.
 
“At a late hour last night the Secretary of State communicated in person with the Chief Commissioner—at the latter's town residence. He instructed him to offer every facility to a newly appointed agent of the Home office who was empowered to conduct an official inquiry into the drug traffic. As a result Vine Street was advised that the Home office investigator would proceed at once to Kazmah's premises, and from thence wherever available clues might lead him. For some reason which has not yet been explained to me, this investigator chooses to preserve a strict anonymity.”
 
Traces of irritation became perceptible in the weary voice. Kerry staring, in silence, the Assistant Commissioner continued:
 
“I have been advised that this nameless agent is in a position to establish his bona fides at any time, as he bears a number of these cards. You see, Chief Inspector, I am frank with you.”
 
From a table drawer the Assistant Commissioner took a visiting-card, which he handed to Kerry. The latter stared at it as one stares at a rare specimen. It was the card of Lord Wrexborough, His Majesty's Principal Secretary of State for the Home Department, and in the cramped caligraphy of his lordship it bore a brief note, initialled, thus:
 
    Lord Wrexborough
    Great Cumberland Place, V. 1
    “To introduce 719. W.”
 
 
Some moments of silence followed; then:
 
“Seven-one-nine,” said Kerry in a high, strained voice. “Why seven-one-nine? And why all this hocus-pocus? Am I to understand, sir, that not only myself but all the Criminal Investigation Department is under a cloud?............