"He's likely," commented Burgess. "I saw a record of him once as written up by the Manchester police. They made it so hot for him in England he had to jump out."
The criminologist read out a number of additional names; then Burgess closed his note-book and put it in his pocket. Ashton-Kirk took a folded paper from a drawer and handed it to him.
"Here are your instructions. Work carefully, and whatever you do, don't let any inkling of what you are after get out."
Burgess glanced at the document's contents, and at one point his mouth puckered up as though he were going to whistle.
"All right," said he, as he refolded the paper and put it, also, in his pocket. "Anything more?"
"Not now. But keep in touch."
Burgess promised to do so; and with a nod to Ashton-Kirk, and one to Mr. Scanlon, he left the room.
"Burgess hasn't the natural tact of Fuller," said Ashton-Kirk as he threw himself once more upon the sofa and began recharging the briar pipe. "But he has done amazingly well at times. He has a pushing way about him and seems to do things by sheer pressure in which a more pointed intelligence would fail."
He lit the pipe and rearranged the rugs comfortably about his legs. Then with a contented sigh, he lay back and looked at Scanlon.
"Well, we seem to be doing fairly, eh?" said he. "I rather think that before long we'll make an end of this affair."