26 ANGEL PAVEMENT

outer door behind her, a moment later, with a decisive
bang.

Left to himself, Stanley, with the contemptuous air
of a man who is meant for better things, began his morn-
ing's work. After taking off die two typewriter covers,
dumping a few books on the high desk, and filling up
all the ink-pots and putting out clean sheets of blotting-
paper (which duty was a little fad of Mr. Smeeth's),
he remembered that he was a creature with a soul. So,
grasping a short round ruler in such a way that it re-
motely resembled a revolver, he crouched behind Mr.
Smeeth's high stool for a few tense moments, then
sprang out, pointing his gun at the place where the
great criminal's bottom waistcoat button would have
been, and said hoarsely: 'Tut 'em up, Diamond Jack.
No, you don't! Not a move!" He gave a warning
flourish of the gun, then said casually, over his shoulder,
to one of his assistants or a few police sergeants or some-
body like that, "Take him away." And that was the end
of Diamond Jack, and yet another triumph for S. Poole,
the young detective whose exploits were rivalling even
those of the Boy Aviators. And having thus refreshed
himself, Stanley replaced the round ruler and condes-
cended to perform one or two more of those mono-
tonous and trifling actions that Messrs. Twigg and
Dersingham demanded of him at this hour of the morn-
ing. These left him ample time for thought, and he
began to wonder if he would be able to get out during
the morning. Once outside the office-even though
he was only going to the post office or the railway
goods department or some firm not four streets away
-he could enjoy himself, for the affairs of Twigg
and Dersingham faded to a grey thread of routine;