Elk shrugged.
“Mr. Nobody. Litnov had his by post. It was signed ‘Seven,’ and gave him the rendezvous, and that was all. He says he has never seen a Frog since he was initiated. Where he was sworn in he doesn’t remember. The car belongs to Frogs, and he receives so much a week for looking after it. Ordinarily he is employed by Heron’s Club—drives a truck for them. He tells me that there are twenty other cars cached in London somewhere, just standing in their garages, and each has its own driver, who goes once a week to give it a clean up.”
“Heron’s Club—that is the dance club which Lola and Lew Brady are interested in!” said Dick thoughtfully, and Elk considered.
“I never thought of that. Of course, it doesn’t mean that the management of Heron’s know anything about Litnov’s evening work. I’ll look up that club.”
He was saved the trouble, for the next morning, when he reached the office, he found a man waiting to see him.
“I’m Mr. Hagn, the manager of the Heron’s Club,” he introduced himself. “I understand one of my men has been in trouble.”
Hagn was a tall, good-looking Swede who spoke without any trace of a foreign accent.
“How have you heard that, Mr. Hagn?” asked Elk suspiciously. “The man has been under lock and key since last night, and he hasn’t held any communication with anybody.”
Mr. Hagn smiled.
“You can’t arrest people and take them to a police-station without somebody knowing all about it,” he said with truth. “One of my waiters saw Litnov being taken to Mary Lane handcuffed, and as Litnov hasn’t reported for duty this morning, there was only one conclusion to be drawn. What is the trouble, Mr. Elk?”