Sir Stanley shook his head.
"I'm going to see a greater Home Secretary than ever lived in Whitehall," he said slowly. "I'm finished, Stafford. Strip this mummery from me, if you can."
With shaking hands Stafford King tore off the black cloak and flung it under the bed.
"Now," said Sir Stanley weakly, "you can introduce me to the provincial police as the head of our department and you can keep my secret, Stafford—if you will."
Stafford laid his hand upon Sir Stanley's.
"I told my solicitor," Sir Stanley spoke with difficulty, "to give you a letter in case—in case anything happened. I know I haven't played the game by the department. I ought to have resigned years ago when I found what had happened to my poor boy. I was Chief of Police in one of the provinces of India at the time, but they wouldn't let me go. I came to Scotland Yard and was promoted—no, I haven't played the game with the department. And yet perhaps I have."
He did not speak for some time.
His breathing was growing fainter and fainter, and when Stafford asked him, he said he was in no pain.
"I had to deceive you," he said after awhile. "I had to pretend that Jack o' Judgment called on me too. That was to take suspicion from your—Miss White," he smiled. "No, I haven't played the game. I stood for the law, and yet—I broke that gang, which the law could not touch. Yes, I broke them! I broke them!" he whispered. "If Boundary hadn't known me I should have been gone before you came and resigned to-morrow," he said, "but he must have discovered the boy's name. I wonder he hadn't tried before. I smashed them, didn't I, Stafford? It cost me thousands. I have committed almost every kind of crime—I burgled the diamondsmiths', but you must give me your word you will never tell. Phillopolis must suffer. They must all be punished."