Transvestia would have concealed the microphones better. But the listeners would not be long: the wax in the lock was ominous. When they had cut the key how long would they wait? Until she (Valerie) had departed?

When Caravelle had packed all his feminine gear into a trunk, to a fusillade of Valerie's girlish prattle she watched him crawl under the frilly bed-cover, like a large little boy. Lying prone, she signalled him to remain perfectly still and pushed the trunk in beside him. Then she took from her large handbag a tiny rad- io transmitter and dialed a certain combination of let- ters and figures. Without the slightest sound a section of the floor beneath the bed began to sink downwards, taking the startled scientist with it. Down, down, it glided, till it disappeared in the gloom of the secret shaft.

Valerie waited. As noiselessly as it had gone, the floor returned, to its exact position. But this time it was covered with policemen, silently crouching. Valerie gave no hint of acknowledgment to them but, still talking as if Dr. Caravelle were there, she tripp ed to the front door and, with a

Thank you so much, Dr. Caravelle'. I'm so sor- ry to be so stupid today!" she waved her hand gaily, called:

"Goodbye! and departed. The door, which was fitted with an automatic device, closed behind her. On the landing, careful not to tread on the remaining ball-bearings, she ostentatiously touched up her lip- stick and left daintily for her home next door.

What of John Caravelle? Down he had sunk into the darkness, quite quietly. Then he felt his moving platform stop and roll sideways. Something hissed be- hind him, and there was the sound of a door closing. A light came on, and he found himself entirely surround- ed by policemen.

A sergeant stepped forward.

Good evening, sir." He produced a warrant.