A few minutes later Mr. Moore, the young detective whose acquaintance Westerham had made at his rooms in Bruton Street the day before, came briskly into the room.
“Mr. Moore,” said the detective, solemnly, “we must do our duty.
“It is our task to charge this gentleman with being concerned in this business.”
Westerham turned his hard, stern eyes on Moore, and the man felt uncomfortable.
“Very well, sir,” he said, looking at his chief.
“Stop!” cried Westerham, “before you do so, I want to ask you one or two questions. You, of course, are responsible to the Commissioner?”
Rookley nodded.
“And the Commissioner is responsible to the Home Secretary?”
Rookley nodded again.
“And the Home Secretary is, to a certain extent, responsible to the Prime Minister?”