“Then put him under arrest,” said Dick promptly.
“What is the charge?”
“Hold him on suspicion of being associated with the Frogs, and if necessary move him to the nearest police-station. But it has to be done at once.”
Elk was perturbed.
“It isn’t a small matter to arrest a millionaire, you know, Captain Gordon. I daresay in America it is simple, and I am told you could pinch the President if you found him with a flask in his pocket. But here it is a little different.”
How very different it was, Dick discovered when he made application in private for the necessary warrants. At four o’clock they were delivered to him by the clerk of a reluctant magistrate, and, accompanied by police officers, he went back to Maitland’s palatial home.
The footman who admitted them said that Mr. Maitland was lying down and that he did not care to disturb him. In proof, he sent for a second footman, who confirmed the statement.
“Which is his room?” said Dick Gordon. “I am a police officer and I want to see him.”
“On the second floor, sir.”
He showed them to an electric lift, which carried the five to the second floor. Opposite the lift grille was a large double door, heavily burnished and elaborately gilded.