“As you requested,” Ted Cricket began, reading from a notebook like a good cop, “I positioned myself outside the United States Embassy at eight A.M. this morning and waited for the appearance of a gentleman of the description provided by you on Friday last. Such a gentleman appeared just after ten A.M. and went into the embassy. He emerged at twelve thirty-nine P.M. with another gentleman, who was American in his dress, and I followed them to a restaurant and pub called the Guinea, in a mews just off Berkeley Square. They remained there for nearly two hours, then returned to the embassy.

“At half past four, the first gentleman emerged from the embassy again and, on foot, proceeded to a house in Green Street, a short walk from the embassy. He let himself in with a key, and I surmised that the house is his residence in London. To check this, I knocked on the door of the basement flat, where a caretaker lives, and asked him questions regarding the occupants of the building. He was extremely reluctant to talk to me until I gave him to understand that I was a police officer; then he became marginally more cooperative.

“He divulged, in an oblique manner, that the house was owned by the American government, and that it consisted of four flats occupied by various transient government officials. He knew the gentleman I was following, who occupied the third-floor flat, only as Mr. Gray. Mr. Gray has occupied the third-floor flat for at least four years, though he is often away, and he keeps a considerable wardrobe in the flat. He is apparently unmarried, though he sometimes receives lady guests in the flat. He receives no mail there, and I am inclined to believe that Gray is not the gentleman’s real name.

“I am also inclined to believe that Mr. Gray is not, formally speaking, an accredited American representative to Her Majesty’s government. He has all the earmarks of a spook.” Cricket stopped talking.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Stone said. “I’m also inclined to think that it would be fruitless, not to mention dangerous, to attempt to bug Mr. Gray’s flat, because if he is a spook, his organization will have taken steps to prevent such an action.”

“Agreed,” Cricket replied.

“The question now is, how do we find out his real name?”

“I had a thought about that, Mr. Barrington,” Cricket said. “Why don’t I have his pocket picked?”

Stone smiled. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Can you get it done without his knowing?”

“I know a person who can,” Cricket replied confidently. “Mr. Gray might even enjoy the experience.”

“I take it your pickpocket is female.”

“Indeed, yes.”

“Go to it.”

Cricket turned to Jones. “Bobby, what do you have for Mr. Barrington?”