The two men had not met since they had parted at the door of the North Lambeth Police Court, and there was in Colonel Boundary's smile something of forgiveness and gentle reproach.
"Well, Mr. King," he said, "come in, come in, won't you?"
He offered his hand to the other, but Stafford apparently did not see it.
"No malice, I trust, Mr. King?" said the colonel genially. "You know my friend Mr. Silva? A business associate of mine, a director of several of my companies."
"I know him all right," said Stafford and added, "I hope to know him better."
Pinto recognised the underlying sense of the words, but not a muscle of his face moved. For Stafford King the hatred with which he regarded the law lost its personal character. This man was something more than a thief-taker and a tracker of criminals. Pinto chose to regard him as the close friend of Maisie White, and as such, his rival.
"And to what are we indebted for this visit?" asked the bland colonel.
"The chief wants to see you."
"The chief?"
"Sir Stanley Belcom. Being the chief of our department I should have thought you had heard of him."