Chichester is not famous for its restaurants, but the dining-room of a little hotel, where three people foregathered that afternoon, had the advantage of privacy.

When Mike Brixan got back to his hotel he found two men waiting to see him, and, after a brief introduction, he took them upstairs to his sitting-room.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” he said, when the inspector had closed the door behind him. “The fact is that sheerly criminal work is a novelty to me, and I’m afraid that I’m going to make it a mystery to you,” he smiled. “At the moment I’m not prepared to give expression to all my suspicions.”

Detective Inspector Lyle, the chief of the two, laughed.

“We have been placed entirely under your orders, Captain Brixan,” he said, “and neither of us are very curious. The information you asked for, Sergeant Walters has brought.” He indicated his tall companion.

“Which information⁠—about Penne? Is he known to the police?” asked Michael, interested.

Sergeant Walters nodded.

“He was convicted and fined a few years ago for assaulting a servant⁠—a woman. Apparently he took a whip to the girl, and he very narrowly escaped going to prison. That was the first time our attention was attracted to him, and we made inquiries both in London and in the Malay States and found out all about him. He’s a very rich man, and, being a distant cousin of the late baronet, you may say he fluked his title. In Borneo he lived upcountry, practically in the bush, for fifteen or twenty years, and the stories we have about him aren’t particularly savoury. There are a few of them which you might read at your leisure, Mr. Brixan⁠—they’re in the record.”

Michael nodded.

“Is anything known of an educated orangutan which is his companion?”

To his surprise, the officer answered:

“Bhag? Oh yes, we know all about him. He was captured when he was quite a baby by Penne, and was brought up in captivity. It has been rather difficult to trace the man, because he never returns to England by the usual steamship line, so that it’s almost impossible to have a tag on him. He has a yacht, a fine seagoing boat, the Kipi, which is practically officered and manned by Papuans. What comes and goes with him I don’t know. There was a complaint came through to us that the last time he was abroad Penne nearly lost his life as the result of some quarrel he had with a local tribesman. Now, Mr. Brixan, what would you like us to do?”

Michael’s instructions were few and brief. That evening, when Adele walked home to her lodgings, she was conscious that a man was following her, and after her previous night’s adventure this fact would have played havoc with her nerves but for the note she found waiting when she got indoors. It was from Michael.

“Would you mind if I put a Scotland Yard man to watch you, to see that you do not get into mischief! I don’t think there’s any danger that you will, but I shall feel ever so much easier in my mind if you will endure this annoyance.”

She read the letter and her brows knit. So she was being shadowed! It was an uncomfortable experience, and yet she could not very well object, could not indeed feel anything but a sense of warm gratitude toward this ubiquitous and pushful young man, who seemed determined not to let her out of his sight.