"Have you got fingerprints of mine?"
"No, not yours. I'm going to take them in a minute."
"Whose, then?"
"Mrs. Everett's."
"What has Mrs. Everett got to do with it?" the man said, with the first hint of defiance.
"I expect you know more about that than I do. Don't talk. I want you to be able to travel tomorrow or the next day."
"But look here, you haven't done any-thing to Mrs. Everett, have you?"
Grant grinned. "No; I think it's what Mrs. Everett's done to us."
"What do you mean? You haven't arrested her, have you?"
There was obviously no hope of the man being quiet until he knew how they had traced him, so Grant told him. "We found a fingerprint of Mrs. Everett's in your rooms, and as Mrs. Everett had told us she didn't know where your new rooms were, it was a fair conclusion that she had a finger in the pie. We found that her relations stayed here, and then we found the man you fooled at King's Cross, and his description of Mrs. Everett made things sure. We only just missed you at the Brixton place."