"The character of the place," Lutchester assured him, "is already perfectly well known to the heads of the police. The matter will be dealt with, but not in the way you suggest. And so far as regards Fischer, I do not wish him interfered with for the present."
"You do not wish him interfered with?" Graham repeated. "Where the devil do you come in at all?"
"You can leave me out of the matter for the present. You want the formula back, don't you?"
"My God, yes!" Graham muttered fervently. "It's all very well to give one a pencil and a piece of paper and say 'Write it out,' but there are calculations and proportions—"
"Precisely," Lutchester interrupted. "You want it back again. Why not let Fischer do the business? He has an idea where it's gone. The thing to do seems to me to follow him."
"To follow Fischer?" Graham repeated vaguely.
"Precisely. If he thinks the formula is in England, Fischer will stay in England. If he thinks that it has gone abroad he will go abroad. If we leave him free we can watch which he does."
Graham swallowed half a wineglassful of the brandy by his side. Then he leaned forward.
"Look here," he said, "you'll forgive me if I repeat myself and ask you once more—what the hell has all this got to do with you?"
"Just this much," Lutchester replied, "that I insist upon your taking the course of action in this matter which I propose."