"Don't bother about the other one—this is our man!"
Then, in a confusion of gripping hands, John was flung back on the seat of the taxi; a voice spoke firmly in his ear:
"You'll keep quiet, young man, or it will be the worse for you!"
John saw Captain Cherriton flitting like a shadow along the road and out of the square. He looked at the person who was seated beside him in the taxi, and was surprised to find a big, typical police officer in plain clothes. Opposite John two other officers, who had crowded into the vehicle, were seated, looking at him with steady, interested gaze.
"Your name's Treves?" demanded one of the men.
"What of it?" returned John.
"It's all I want to know," answered the man, coldly.
As the taxi glided along John strove to gather his scattered wits, but it was not until a plain, quietly-furnished room had been achieved in Scotland Yard, that any light broke in upon his senses. He found himself confronted by a tall, grey-moustached man in civilian clothes. The man was standing beside a table, and beside him stood a distinguished-looking staff officer.
As John entered the room, in charge of two detectives, his senses were still in a whirl from the swiftness of his adventure. The grey-moustached man, whom the detectives addressed as "Sir Robert," rose from his chair and looked at him with stern, brooding eyes; then his gaze turned to one of John's captors, who had entered the room and was holding Baron Rathenau's overcoat on his arm.
"Have you his papers?" he demanded.