"Hilda is a good girl," said the other complacently, "she is also a good German girl, and in Germany women know their place in the system. She will be satisfied with what I give her."
"There aren't any women like that," said Milsom with decision, and the subject dropped.
The car stopped near the Marble Arch to put down Milsom, and van Heerden continued his journey alone, reaching his apartments a little before midnight. As he stepped out of the car a man strolled across the street. It was Beale's watcher. Van Heerden looked round with a smile, realizing the significance of this nonchalant figure, and passed through the lobby and up the stairs.
He had left his lights full on for the benefit of watchers, and the hall-lamp glowed convincingly through the fanlight. Beale's flat was in darkness, and a slip of paper fastened to the door gave his address.
The doctor let himself into his own rooms, closed the door, switched out the light and stepped into his bureau.
"Hello," he said angrily, "what are you doing here?—I told you not to come."
The girl who was sitting at the table and who now rose to meet him was breathless, and he read trouble in her face. He could have read pride there, too, that she had so well served the man whom she idolized as a god.
"I've got him, I've got him, Julius!"
"Got him! Got whom?" he asked, with a frown.