“I—no, no. He wasn’t one of the gas-men.”

“I shouldn’t imagine he’s a gas-man by profession,” murmured Rollison. The question is whether he’s one of the same party or whether there are two parties with the same idea.”

He moved again, and caught the burglar’s chin between the fork of his finger and thumb and banged his head against the wall. The movement startled Barbara almost as much as the victim, it was so swift and violent. And it was followed by a harsh-voiced:

“Are you one of the gas-men’s friends?”

“Yes!” gasped the burglar.

“That looks like the set-up, Mrs. Allen,” Rollison said. “Your husband’s supposed to have some diamonds, and some bad men want them. Simple greed, you see. Have you——”

“I’ve never seen any diamonds!” exclaimed Barbara. “Bob can’t have them!”

“They aren’t on Allen,” Blane said. They weren’t found here this afternoon, so they must——”

Two things are possible,” interrupted Rollison judicially. “Either Allen has hidden them in a safe place, or he never had them.”

“He had them all right!”

“As you’re so sure, where did he get them from?”

“I—I don’t know,” muttered Blane. He drew back, as if frightened of being hurt again. “I don’t know! I was told——”

“Who told you?”

“The Boss!”

“So the Boss told you,” said Rollison, shaking his head. “When in doubt, invent an all-powerful Boss and blame everything on to him, as with Cabinet Ministers. Who told you?”

“It’s true!” gasped Blane. “I’ve told you the truth, the Boss——”

“Who is this gentleman?”

“I don’t know!” Blane’s voice grew hoarse as Rollison took a step towards him, and raised the hair-brush.

“Well, well, isn’t that a remarkable thing,” marvelled Rollison. The Boss gives you orders and sends you out with a knife, and knows everything about Bob Allen and the mysterious diamonds, but you don’t even know the Boss’s name.”