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"It is addressed to him all right," he said. "Now, Mr. Morlake, I think I've got you."

He pulled out the letter and read it. Lieber watching him, saw his mouth open in horrified amazement.

Dear Mr. Morlake [the message ran], Ralph Hamon employs a police officer named Marborne, who is laying a trap for you.

It was signed "Jane Smith."

"Who the devil is Jane Smith?" gasped Marborne.

This was the identical question that James Morlake was asking himself at that moment.

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The detective turned from his examination of the letter to glower at his companion.

"You're a fine thief, Lieber!" he snarled. "Is this all you could get?"

Lieber's puffy face fell.

"Ain't it enough, Mr. Marborne?" he asked, aggrieved. "You said 'Get a letter,' and I got it."

"You got it all right," said the other grimly. "Oh, yes, you got it!"

He stuffed the letter into his pocket and left his gaping agent staring after him.

Little things amuse, but they also distress little minds. The discovery that his association with Hamon was known to "Jane Smith" worried him horribly—it worried him more because he was so deeply committed to the plot that it was impossible to go back. The scheme must be carried through, but first he must make sure of his ground. He hailed a taxi and drove to Grosvenor Place. The servant who admitted him, and who knew him, said that Mr. Hamon was out.