"Did they suspect Miss Van Teyl, then, of having taken your pocketbook?"
"I lost the drift of things just then," he admitted. "She couldn't have done, in any case. Forgive me, but aren't we wasting time, Mr. Lutchester? We must do something. Couldn't you ring up Scotland Yard now?"
"I certainly could," Lutchester assented, "but, as I told you just now, I don't think that I will."
"For certain very definite reasons with which you needn't trouble yourself just now," Lutchester pronounced. "The formula has gone, without a doubt, but it certainly isn't in the hands of any of the people at Henry's."
"But there's that American fellow--Fischer!" Graham exclaimed. "He was the ringleader!"
"Just so," Lutchester murmured thoughtfully. "However, he hasn't got the formula."
"But he planned the attack upon me," Graham protested. "He is an enemy--a German--sheltering himself under his American naturalization. Surely we're going for him?"
"He's a wrong 'un, of course," Lutchester admitted, "but he hasn't got the formula."
"But we must do something!" Graham continued, his anger rising as his strength returned. "Why, the place is a perfect den of conspirators! I expect Ferrani himself is in it, and there's that other maitre d'hotel, Jules, and those black beasts, Joseph and Hassan, besides Fischer. My God, they shall pay for this!"
"I dare say they will," he admitted, "but not quite in the way you are thinking of."
"Look here," he said, "I'm sane enough now, aren't I, and in my proper senses? You are not going to suggest that we don't turn the police on to that damned place?"
"Leave them alone for the present. Not one of them has the formula. Not one of them even knows where it is."
"You asked for all you got," Lutchester told him curtly, "and perhaps a little more."
The first tinge of colour came back to Graham's cheeks. His eyes flashed with anger.
"Perhaps I did," he admitted, "but that doesn't alter the fact that I'm going to have some of my own back out of them."
Lutchester crossed his legs and turned round in his chair. For the first time he directly faced his visitor. His tone, though not unkindly, was imperative.
"Young fellow," he said, "you'll have to listen to me about this."
A smouldering sense of revolt suddenly found words.