"Tuppence," said Tommy, "we shall have to move into a much larger office."

"Nonsense," said Tuppence, "You mustn't get swollen headed and think you are a millionaire just because you solved two or three twopenny halfpenny cases with the aid of the most amazing luck."

"What some call luck, others call skill."

"Of course if you really think you are Sherlock Holmes, Thorndyke, McCarty and the Brothers Okewood all rolled into one there is no more to be said. Personally I would much rather have luck on my side than all the skill in the world."

"Perhaps there is something in that," conceded Tommy. "All the same, Tuppence, we do need a larger office."

"Why?"

"The Classics," said Tommy. "We need several hundreds of yards of extra book shelf if Edgar Wallace is to be properly represented."

"We haven't had an Edgar Wallace case yet."

"I am afraid we never shall," said Tommy. "If you notice he never does give the amateur sleuth much of a chance. It is all stern Scotland Yard kind of stuff-the real thing and no base counterfeit."

Albert, the office boy, appeared at the door.

"Inspector Marriot to see you," he announced.

"The mystery man of Scotland Yard" murmured Tommy.

"The busiest of the Busies," said Tuppence. "Or is it 'Noses?' I always get mixed between Busies and Noses."

The Inspector advanced upon them with a beaming smile of welcome.

"Well and how are things?" he asked breezily. "None the worse for our little adventure the other day?"

"Oh! rather not," said Tuppence. "Too, too marvellous, wasn't it?"

"Well, I don't know that I would describe it exactly that way myself," said Marriot cautiously.

"What has brought you here today, Marriott?" asked Tommy. "Not just solicitude for our nervous systems, is it?"

"No," said the Inspector. "It is work for the brilliant Mr. Blunt."

"Ha!" said Tommy. "Let me put my brilliant expression on."

"I have come to make you a proposition, Mr. Beresford. What would you say to rounding up a really big gang?"

"Is there such a thing?" asked Tommy.

"What do you mean, is there such a thing?"

"I always thought that gangs were confined to fiction-like master crooks, and super criminals."

"The master crook isn't very common," agreed the Inspector. "But Lord bless you, sir, there's any amount of gangs knocking about."

"I don't know that I should be at my best dealing with a gang," said Tommy. "The amateur crime, the crime of quiet family life-that is where I flatter myself that I shine. Drama of strong domestic interest. That's the thing-with Tuppence at hand to supply all those little feminine details which are so important, and so apt to be ignored by the denser male."

His eloquence was arrested abruptly, as Tuppence threw a cushion at him and requested him not to talk nonsense.

"Will have your little bit of fun, won't you, sir?" said Inspector Marriot, smiling paternally at them both. "If you'll not take offense at my saying so, it's a pleasure to see two your" people enjoying life as much as you two do."

"Do we enjoy life?" said Tuppence, opening her eyes very wide. "I suppose we do. I've never thought about it before."

"To return to that gang you were talking about," said Tommy. "In spite of my extensive private practice, Duchesses, millionaires, and all the best charwomen-I might perhaps condescend to look into the matter for you. I don't like to see Scotland Yard at fault. You'll have the Daily Mail after you before you know where you are."

"As I said before, you must have your bit of fun. Well, it's like this." Again he hitched his chair forward. "There's any amount of forged notes going about just now-hundreds of 'em! The amount of counterfeit Treasury notes in circulation would surprise you. Most artistic bit of work it is. Here's one of 'em."

He took a one pound note from his pocket and handed it to Tommy.

"Looks all right, doesn't it?"

Tommy examined the note with great interest.

"By Jove, I'd never spot there was anything wrong with that."

"No more would most people. Now here's a genuine one. I'll show you the differences-very slight they are, but you'll soon learn to tell them apart. Take this magnifying glass."

At the end of five minutes' coaching, both Tommy and Tuppence were fairly expert.

"What do you want us to do, Inspector Marriot?" asked Tuppence. "Just keep our eyes open for these things?"

"A great deal more than that, Mrs. Beresford. I'm pinning my faith on you to get to the bottom of the matter. You see we've discovered that the notes are being circulated from the West End. Somebody pretty high up in the social scale is doing the distributing. They're passing them the other side of the Channel as well. Now there's a certain person who is interesting us very much. A Major Laidlaw-perhaps you've heard the name?"

"I think I have," said Tommy. "Connected with racing, isn't that it?"

"Yes. Major Laidlaw is pretty well known in connection with the Turf. There's nothing actually against him, but there's a general impression that he's been a bit too smart over one or two rather shady transactions. Men in the know look queer when he's mentioned. Nobody knows much of his past or where he came from. He's got a very attractive French wife who's seen about everywhere with a train of admirers. They must spend a lot of money, the Laidlaws, and I'd like to know where it comes from."

"Possibly from the train of admirers," suggested Tommy.

"That's the general idea. But I'm not so sure. It may be coincidence, but a lot of notes have been forthcoming from a certain very smart little gambling club which is much frequented by the Laidlaws and their set. This racing, gambling set get rid of a lot of loose money in notes. There couldn't be a better way of getting it into circulation."

"And where do we come in?"

"This way. Young St. Vincent and his wife are friends of yours, I understand? They're in pretty thick with the Laidlaw set-though not as thick as they were. Through them it will be easy for you to get a footing in the same set in a way that none of our people could attempt. There's no likelihood of their spotting you. You'll have an ideal opportunity."

"What have we got to find out exactly?"

"Where they get the stuff from, if they are passing it."

"Quite so," said Tommy. "Major Laidlaw goes out with an empty suitcase. When he returns it is crammed to the bursting point with Treasury notes. How is it done? I sleuth him and find out. Is that the idea?"

"More or less. But don't neglect the lady, and her father, M. Heroulade. Remember the notes are being passed on both sides of the Channel."

"My dear Marriot," exclaimed Tommy reproachfully. "Blunt's Brilliant Detectives do not know the meaning of the word neglect."

The Inspector rose.

"Well, good luck to you," he said, and departed.

"Slush," said Tuppence enthusiastically.

"Eh?" said Tommy perplexed.

"Counterfeit money," explained Tuppence. "It is always called Slush. I know I'm right. Oh, Tommy, we have got an Edgar Wallace case. At last we are Busies."

"We are," said Tommy, "and we are out to get The Crackler and we will get him good."

"Did you say The Cackler or The Crackler?"

"The Crackler."

"Oh, what is a Crackler?"

"A new word that I have coined," said Tommy. "Descriptive of one who passes false notes into circulation. Bank notes crackle; therefore he is called a Crackler. Nothing could be more simple."

"That is rather a good idea," said Tuppence, "it makes it seem more real. I like the Rustler myself. Much more descriptive and sinister."

"No," said Tommy, "I said the Crackler first and I stick to it."

"I shall enjoy this case," said Tuppence. "Lots of Night Clubs and cocktails in it. I shall buy some eyelash black to-morrow."

"Your eyelashes are black already," objected her husband.

"I could make them blacker," said Tuppence, "and cherry lip stick would be useful too. That ultra bright kind."

"Tuppence," said Tommy, "you're a real rake at heart. What a good thing it is that you are married to a sober steady middle aged man like myself."

"You wait," said Tuppence. "When you have been to the Python Club a bit you mayn't be so sober yourself."

Tommy produced from a cupboard various bottles, two glasses, and a cocktail shaker.

"Let's start now," he said. "We are after you, Crackler, and we mean to get you."