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Updated: June 9, 2025
Sir Stanley Belcom, First Commissioner of Criminal Intelligence, accentuated his smile. "Well, Stafford," he drawled, "I've come to see the culminating triumph of your official career." Stafford King made a little grimace. "I hope so," he said dryly.
Their eyes met, the grey and the faded blue, and for the space of a few seconds they stared. Sir Stanley Belcom was the first to drop his eyes. "I've sent for you, colonel," he said, "because I think you might give me a great deal of information, if you're willing." "Command me," said the colonel grandly.
There was nothing more that he could do. He passed down the stairs into the street and jumped on to the motor-cycle which had brought him to the scene. Sir Stanley Belcom lived in Cavendish Place, and Stafford had been a frequent visitor to the house.
He dismissed Crewe and gave fresh instructions to his driver, and ten minutes later he was stepping out of his limousine at the entrance to Scotland Yard. Stafford King was not in, or at any rate was not available. Greatly daring, the colonel sent his card to the First Commissioner. Sir Stanley Belcom read the name and raised his eyebrows.
There was no breath of suspicion that he was not dead. "Old Dan Boundary has tricked them all. Clever old Dan Boundary!" He chuckled at the thought. He had deceived all those clever men at Scotland Yard Sir Stanley Belcom, Stafford King, Jack o' Judgment! Yes, he had deceived Jack o' Judgment and that seemed the least believable part of the affair.
"Sir Stanley Belcom," repeated the other; "why, of course, I know Sir Stanley by repute. May I ask what he wants to see me about? And how is my young friend er Miss White?" asked the colonel. "When I saw her last," replied Stafford steadily, "she was looking pretty well, so far as I could tell." "Indeed!" said the colonel politely. "I have a considerable interest in the welfare of Miss White.
He lifted the mask gently and the light of the oil lamp which swung from the ceiling fell upon the white face. "Sir Stanley Belcom! Sir Stanley!" he softly whispered. Sir Stanley turned his head and opened his eyes. The old look of good-humour shone. "Poor old Jack o' Judgment!" he mimicked. "This is going to be a first-class scandal, Stafford. For the sake of the service you ought to hush it up."
This man was something more than a thief-taker and a tracker of criminals. Pinto chose to regard him as the close friend of Maisie White, and as such, his rival. "And to what are we indebted for this visit?" asked the bland colonel. "The chief wants to see you." "The chief?" "Sir Stanley Belcom. Being the chief of our department I should have thought you had heard of him."
Jack, the hangman! You'll meet him one day, Pinto meet him now!" Pinto collapsed he had fainted. "There is one fact which I would impress upon you," said Sir Stanley Belcom, addressing the heads of his departments at the early morning conference at Scotland Yard, "and it is this, that the criminal has nine chances against the one which the law possesses.
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