"He's a wrong 'un, of course," Lutchester admitted, "but he hasn't got the formula."
"But we must do something!" Graham continued, his anger rising as his strength returned. "Why, the place is a perfect den of conspirators! I expect Ferrani himself is in it, and there's that other maitre d'hotel, Jules, and those black beasts, Joseph and Hassan, besides Fischer. My God, they shall pay for this!"
Lutchester nodded.
"I dare say they will," he admitted, "but not quite in the way you are thinking of."
Graham half rose to his feet.
"Look here," he said, "I'm sane enough now, aren't I, and in my proper senses? You are not going to suggest that we don't turn the police on to that damned place?"
"I certainly am," was the brief reply.
Graham was aghast.
"What do you mean to do, then?"
"Leave them alone for the present. Not one of them has the formula. Not one of them even knows where it is."