Chapter I<br >THREE GENTLEMEN<br > The gentleman with the fair hair was sitting in the rear of a<br > closed touring-car， clenching a pipe in his teeth， nestI/ng a<br > somewhat predominant chin on a white silk scarf and<br > apparently sleeping.<br > Everything about him suggested (a) wealth， (b) laziness，<br > (e) boredom， and (d) a good tailor. His pose suggested that he<br > cared not two hoots for clothes. Yet there he was， elegant<br > beyond belief in evening dress: living proof that nothing was<br > beyond the ability of the finest exponent of Savile Row s craft.<br > The young man would have deceived the casual observer in<br > at least one respect. His eyes were not closed. They were open<br > a fraction of an inch: enough for him to see the facade and<br > courtyard of the Regal Hotel through the screen of his start-<br > lingly long， silky-fair eyelashes.<br > During the seventeen minfites that he sat there， twenty-three<br > men and fourteen women rqmarked on the fact that Bruce<br > Murdoch was waiting again---:~he fool--as they passed through<br >the hotel doors.<br > In the eighteenth minute， a Rolls Royce drew soundlessly<br >into the courtyard and pulled up like a ghost. A com.<br >missionaire hurried forward as the chauffeur jumped down，<br >and three men and a woman who were about to enter the<br >Regal stopped and looked at the ravishing creature who<br >emerged. With a smile each for the commissionaire and<br >chauffeur， and a freezing glance for the four onlookers， she<br >swept into the splendid/oyer of the Regal Hotel.<br > As the doors swung to， behind her， the fair young man<br >uttered a heartfelt: "Damn!"<br > "All O.K.， sir?" The man at the tourer s wheel was a small，<br >tough， wiry-looking individual with a broken nose and one<br >cauliflower ear.<br > "Confound you， yes，" said Murdoch， dispassionately. "Get<br >going."<br > The big car pulled out of the courtyard quickly and silently，<br >turned right into Piccadilly and cut across Regent Street.<br >Fifteen minutes later， it pulled up outside a dreary-looking<br >house in a road that led from Sloane Square， and the young<br >man climbed out.<br > "Scram，" he said， and as the ear disappeared towards<br >Victoria， the tall--Bruce Murdoch was something more than<br >six feet--young man tapped three times on a door badly<br >needing a coat of paint.<br > 7<br ><br >