Kitobni o'qish: «Malcolm Sage, Detective», sahifa 5

CHAPTER VI THE STOLEN ADMIRALTY MEMORANDUM

I

"Well," cried Tims, one Saturday night, as he pushed open thekitchen door of the little flat he occupied over the garage. "How'sthe cook, the stove, and the supper?"

"I'm busy," said Mrs. Tims, a little, fair woman, with blue eyes, animpertinent nose, and the inspiration of neatness in her dress, asshe altered the position of a saucepan on the stove and put twoplates into the oven to warm.

This was the invariable greeting between husband and wife. Tims wentup behind her, gripped her elbows to her side, and kissed hernoisily.

"I told you I was busy," she said.

"You did, Emmelina," he responded. "I heard you say so, and how'shis Nibs?"

The last remark was addressed to an object that was crawling towardshim with incoherent cries and gurgles of delight. Stooping down,Tims picked up his eighteen-months-old son and held him aloft, chuckling and mouthing his glee.

"You'll drop him one of these days," said Mrs. Tims, "and thenthere'll be a pretty hullaballoo."

"Well, he's fat enough to bounce," was the retort. "Ain't you,

Jimmy?"

Neither Tims nor Mrs. Tims seemed to be conscious that withoutvariations these same remarks had been made night after night, weekafter week, month after month.

"How's Mr. Sage?" was the question with which Mrs. Tims alwaysfollowed the reference to the bouncing of Jimmy.

"Like Johnny Walker, still going strong," glibly came the reply, just as it came every other night. "He was asking about you to-day,"added Tims.

"About me?" Mrs. Tims turned, all attention, her cooking for thetime forgotten.

"Yes, wanted to know when I was going to divorce you."

"Don't be silly, Jim," she cried. "What did he say, really now?" sheadded as she turned once more to the stove.

"Oh! he just asked if you were well," replied Tims, more interestedin demonstrating with the person of his son how an aeroplane leftthe ground than in his wife's question.

"Anything else?" enquired Mrs. Tims, prodding a potato with a forkto see if it was done.

Tims was not deceived by the casual tone in which the question wasasked. He was wont to say that, if his wife wanted his back teeth, she would get them.

"Nothing, my dear, only to ask if his Nibs was flourishin'," andwith a gurgle of delight the aeroplane soared towards the ceiling.

Mrs. Tims had not forgotten the time when Malcolm Sage visited herseveral times when she was ill with pneumonia. She never tired oftelling her friends of his wonderful knowledge of household affairs.He had talked to her of cooking, of childish ailments, of shopping,in a way that had amazed her. His knowledge seemed universal. He hadexplained to her among other things how cracknel biscuits were madeand why croup was so swift in its action.

Tims vowed that the Chief had done her more good than the doctor, and from that day Malcolm Sage had occupied chief place in Mrs.Tims's valhalla.

"Quaint sort o' chap, the Chief," Tims would remark sometimes inconnection with some professional episode.

"Pity you're not as quaint," would flash back the retort from Mrs.Tims, whose conception of loyalty was more literal than that of herhusband.

Supper finished and his Nibs put to bed, Tims proceeded to enjoy hispipe and evening paper, whilst Mrs. Tims got out her sewing. Fromtime to time Tims's eyes would wander over towards the telephone inthe corner.

Finally he folded up the paper, and proceeded to knock out the ashesfrom his pipe preparatory to going to bed. His eyes took a last lookat the telephone just as Mrs. Tims glanced up.

"Don't sit there watching that telephone," she cried, "anyone wouldthink you were wanting – "

"Brrrrrrr – brrrrrrr – brrrrrr," went the bell.

"Now perhaps you're happy," cried Mrs. Tims as he rose to answer thecall, whilst she put on the kettle to make hot coffee to fill thethermos flasks without which she never allowed the car to go out atnight. It was her tribute to "the Chief."

II

In his more expansive moments Malcolm Sage would liken himself to ageneral practitioner in a diseased-infected district. It is truethat there was no speaking-tube, with its terrifying whistle, a fewfeet from his head; but the telephone by his bedside was alwaysliable to arouse him from sleep at any hour of the night.

As Tims had folded up his newspaper with a view to bed, Malcolm Sagewas removing his collar before the mirror on his dressing-table, when his telephone bell rang. Rogers, his man, lookedinterrogatingly at his master, who, shaking his head, passed over tothe instrument and took up the receiver.

"Yes, this is Malcolm Sage – Speaking – Yes." Then for a few minuteshe listened with an impassive face. "I'll be off within tenminutes – The Towers, Holdingham, near Guildford – I understand."

While he was speaking, Rogers, a little sallow-faced man withfish-like eyes and expressionless face, had moved over to the othertelephone and was droning in a monotonous, uninflected voice, "Chiefwants car in five minutes."

It was part of Malcolm Sage's method to train his subordinates torealise the importance of intelligent and logical inference.

Returning to the dressing-table, Malcolm Sage took up another collar, slipped a tie between the fold, and proceeded to put it on.

As he did so he gave instructions to Rogers, who, note-book in hand, and with an expression of indifference that seemed to say "Kismet,"silently recorded his instructions.

"My address will be The Towers, Holdingham, near Guildford. Be onthe look-out for messages."

Without a word Rogers closed the book and, picking up a suit-case, which was always ready for emergencies, he left the room. Twominutes later Malcolm Sage followed and, without a word, entered theclosed car that had just drawn up before his flat in the Adelphi.

Rogers returned to the flat, switched the telephone on to his ownroom, and prepared himself for the night, whilst Malcolm Sage, having eaten a biscuit and drunk some of Mrs. Tims's hot coffee, layback to sleep as the car rushed along the Portsmouth road.

III

In the library at The Towers three men were seated, their faceslined and drawn as if some great misfortune had suddenly descendedupon them; yet their senses were alert. They were listening.

"He ought to be here any minute now," said Mr. Llewellyn John, the

Prime Minister, taking out his watch for the hundredth time.

Sir Lyster Grayne, First Lord of the Admiralty, shook his head.

"He should do it in an hour," said Lord Beamdale, the Secretary of

War, "if he's got a man who knows the road."

"Sage is sure – " began Sir Lyster; then he stopped abruptly, andturned in the direction of the further window.

A soft tapping as of a finger-nail upon a pane of glass was clearlydistinguishable. It ceased for a few seconds, recommenced, thenceased again.

Mr. Llewellyn John looked first at Sir Lyster and then on towardswhere Lord Beamdale sat, heavy of frame and impassive of feature.

Sir Lyster rose and walked quickly over to the window. As heapproached the tapping recommenced. Swinging back the curtain hedisappeared into the embrasure.

The others heard the sound of the window being raised and thenclosed again. A moment later Malcolm Sage appeared, followed by SirLyster, who once more drew the curtain.

At the sight of Malcolm Sage, Mr. Llewellyn John's features relaxedfrom their drawn, tense expression. A look of relief flashedmomentarily into Lord Beamdale's fish-like eyes.

"Thank God you've come, Sage!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John, with a sighof relief as he grasped Malcolm Sage's hand as if it had been alifebelt and he a drowning man. "I think you have met LordBeamdale," he added.

Malcolm Sage bowed to the War Minister, then with great deliberationremoved his overcoat, carefully folded it, and placed it upon achair, laying his cap on top. He then selected a chair at the tablethat gave him a clear view of the faces of the three Ministers, andsat down.

"Why did you come to the window?" enquired Sir Lyster, as he resumedhis own seat. "Did you know this was the library?"

"I saw a crack of light between the curtains," replied Malcolm Sage."It may be desirable that no one should know I have been here," headded.

"Something terrible has happened, Sage," broke in the Prime Minister, his voice shaking with excitement. He had with difficulty containedhimself whilst Malcolm Sage was taking off his overcoat andexplaining his reason for entering by the window. "It's – it's – "His voice broke.

"Perhaps Sir Lyster will tell me, or Lord Beamdale," suggested

Malcolm Sage, looking from one to the other.

Lord Beamdale shook his head.

"Just a bare outline, Sir Lyster," said Malcolm Sage, spreading outhis fingers before him.

Slowly, deliberately, and with perfect self-possession, Sir Lysterexplained what had happened.

"The Prime Minister and Lord Beamdale came down with me on Thursdaynight to spend the weekend," he said. "Incidentally we were todiscuss a very important matter connected with this country's er – foreign policy." The hesitation was only momentary. "Lord Beamdalebrought with him a document of an extremely private nature. This Ihad sent to him earlier in the week for consideration and comment.

"If that document were to get to a certain Embassy in London no onecan foretell the calamitous results. It might even result in anotherwar, if not now certainly later. It was, I should explain, of aprivate and confidential nature, and consequently quite franklyexpressed."

"And you must remember – " began Mr. Llewellyn John excitedly.

"One moment, sir," said Malcolm Sage quietly, without looking upfrom an absorbed contemplation of a bronze letter-weight fashionedin the form of a sphinx.

Mr. Llewellyn John sank back into his chair, and Sir Lyster resumed.

"Just over an hour and a half ago, that is to say soon after eleveno'clock, it was discovered that the document in question was missing, and in its place had been substituted a number of sheets of blankpaper."

"Unless it's found, Sage," cried Mr. Llewellyn John, jumping up fromhis chair in his excitement, "the consequences are too awful tocontemplate."

For a few seconds he strode up and down the room, then returning tohis chair, sank back into its comfortable depths.

"Where was the document kept?" enquired Malcolm Sage, his long, sensitive fingers stroking the back of the sphinx.

"In the safe," replied Sir Lyster, indicating with a nod a smallsafe let into the wall.

"You are in the habit of using it for valuable documents?" queried

Malcolm Sage.

"As a matter of fact very seldom. It is mostly empty," was the reply.

"Why?"

"I have a larger safe in my dressing-room, in which I keep my papers.During the day I occasionally use this to save going up and downstairs."

"Where do you keep the key?"

"When there is anything in the safe I always carry it about withme."

"And at other times?"

"Sometimes in a drawer in my writing-table," said Sir Lyster; "butgenerally I have it on me."

"When was the document put into the safe?"

"At a quarter to eight to-night, just as the second dressing-gongwas sounding."

"And you yourself put it in, locked the door, and have retained thekey ever since?" Malcolm Sage had exhausted the interest of thesphinx and was now drawing diagrams with his forefinger upon themorocco surface of the table.

Sir Lyster nodded.

"I put the key in the pocket of my evening vest when I changed," hesaid. "After the other guests had retired, the Prime Minister raiseda point that necessitated reference to the document itself. It wasthen I discovered the substitution."

"But for that circumstance the safe would not have been opened untilwhen?" queried Malcolm Sage.

"Late to-night, when I should have transferred the packet to thesafe in my dressing-room."

"Would you have examined the contents?"

"No. It is my rule to cut adrift from official matters fromdinner-time on Saturday until after breakfast on Monday. It was onlyin deference to the Prime Minister's particular wish that we referredto the document to-night."

"I take it that the rule you mention is known to your guests andservants?"

"Certainly."

"There is no doubt that it was the document itself that you put inthe safe?"

"None; the Prime Minister and Lord Beamdale saw me do it."

"No doubt whatever," corroborated Mr. Llewellyn John, whilst Lord

Beamdale wagged his head like a mandarin.

"Does anyone else know that it is missing?" asked Malcolm Sage aftera short pause.

Sir Lyster shook his head.

"Only we three; and, of course, the thief," he added.

Malcolm Sage nodded. He had tired of the diagrams, and now satstroking the back of his head.

"Has anyone left the house since the discovery; that is, as far asyou know?" he queried at length.

"No one," said Sir Lyster.

"The servants, of course, have access to this room?"

"Yes; but only Walters, my butler, is likely to come here in theevening, except, of course, my secretary."

"Where does he dine?"

"Miss Blair," corrected Sir Lyster, "always takes her meals in herown sitting-room, where she works. It is situated at the back of thehouse on the ground floor."

Again Malcolm Sage was silent, this time for a longer period.

"So far as you know, then," he said at length, addressing Sir Lyster,"only three people in the house were acquainted with the existenceof the document; you, the Prime Minister, and Lord Beamdale."

Sir Lyster inclined his head.

"You are certain of that?" Malcolm Sage looked up swiftly and keenly."Your secretary and Lady Grayne, for instance, they knew nothingabout it?"

"Nothing; of that I am absolutely certain," replied Sir Lystercoldly.

"And the nature of the document?" enquired Malcolm Sa'ge.

Sir Lyster looked across at Mr. Llewellyn John, who turnedinterrogatingly to Lord Beamdale.

"I am afraid it is of too private a nature to – " he hesitated.

"If you require me to trace something," said Malcolm Sage evenly,"you must at least tell me what that something is."

"It is a document which – " began Lord Beamdale, then he, too, paused.

"But, surely, Sage," broke in Mr. Llewellyn John, "is it notnecessary to know the actual contents?"

"If you had lost something and would not tell me whether it was adog or a diamond, would you expect me to find it?"

"But – " began Mr. Llewellyn John.

"I'm afraid we are wasting time, gentlemen," said Malcolm Sage, rising. "I would suggest Scotland Yard. The official police mustwork under any handicap imposed. I regret that I am unable to doso."

He walked across to the chair where lay his cap and coat.

"Now, Sage," said Mr. Llewellyn John tactfully, "you mustn't let usdown, you really mustn't." Then turning to Sir Lyster, he said, "Ican see his point. If he doesn't know the nature of the document, hecannot form a theory as to who is likely to have taken it. Perhapsunder the circumstances, Grayne, we might take Sage into ourconfidence; at least to such extent as he thinks necessary."

Sir Lyster made no response, whilst Lord Beamdale, whose economy inwords had earned for him the sobriquet of "Lord Dumbeam," sat withimpassive face.

"Perhaps I can help you," said Malcolm Sage, still standing by thechair on which lay his cap and coat. "At the end of every great warthe Plans Departments of the Admiralty and the War Office are busypreparing for the next war. I suggest that this document was theAdmiralty draft of a plan of operations to be put into force in theevent of war occurring between this country and an extremelyfriendly power. It was submitted to the War Office for criticism andcomment as far as land-operations were concerned. Another power, unfriendly to the friendly power, would find in this document a veryvaluable red-herring to draw across the path of its ownperplexities."

"Good heavens!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John, starting upright in hischair. "How on earth did you know?"

"It seems fairly obvious," said Malcolm Sage, as he returned to hischair and resumed his stroking of the sphinx's back. "Who else knewof the existence of the document?" he enquired.

"No one outside the Admiralty and the War – " Sir Lyster stoppedsuddenly.

From the corridor, apparently just outside the library door, camethe sound of a suppressed scream, followed by a bump against thewoodwork.

Rising and moving swiftly across the room, Sir Lyster threw open thedoor, revealing a gap of darkness into which a moment later slid twofigures, a pretty, fair-haired girl and a wizened little Japanesewith large round spectacles and an automatic smile.

"I'm so sorry, Sir Lysier," faltered the girl, as she steppedtimidly into the room, "but I was frightened. Someone had switchedoff the lights and I ran into – " She turned to the Japanese, whostood deprecating and nervous on the threshold.

"I lose my passage," he said, baring his teeth still further; "I goto find cigarette-case of my master. He leave it in beelyard-room. Igo – "

With a motion of his hand, Sir Lyster dismissed the man, who slippedaway as if relieved at getting off so lightly.

"You are up late, Miss Blair," he said coolly, turning to the girl.

"I'm so sorry," she said; "but Lady Grayne gave me some letters, andthere was so much copying for you that – " She paused, then addednervously, "I didn't know it was so late."

"You had better go to bed, now," said Sir Lyster.

With a charming smile she passed out, Sir Lyster closing the doorbehind her. As he turned into the room his eye caught sight of thechair in which Malcolm Sage had been sitting.

"Where is Mr. Sage?" He looked from Mr. Llewellyn John to Lord

Beamdale.

As he spoke Malcolm Sage appeared from the embrasure of the windowthrough which he had entered, and where he had taken cover as SirLyster rose to open the door.

"You see, Sage is not supposed to be here," explained Mr. Llewellyn

John.

"Your secretary has an expensive taste in perfume," remarked MalcolmSage casually, as he resumed his seat. "It often characterises anintensely emotional nature," he added musingly.

"Emotional nature!" repeated Sir Lyster. "As a matter of fact she isextremely practical and self-possessed. You were saying – " heconcluded with the air of a man who dismisses a trifling subject infavour of one of some importance.

"Diplomatists should be trained physiognomists," murmured Malcolm

Sage. "A man's mouth rarely lies, a woman's never."

Sir Lyster stared.

"Now," continued Malcolm Sage, "I should like to know who is stayinghere."

Sir Lyster proceeded to give some details of the guests and servants.The domestic staff comprised twenty-one, and none had been in SirLyster's employ for less than three years. They were all excellentservants, of irreproachable character, who had come to him with goodreferences. Seventeen of the twenty-one lived in the house. Therewere also four lady's-maids and five men-servants attached to theguests. Among the men-servants was Sir Jeffrey Trawler's Japanesevalet.

There was something in Sir Lyster's voice as he mentioned this factthat caused Malcolm Sage to look up at him sharply.

"The man you have just seen," Sir Lyster explained. "He has been thecause of some little difficulty in the servants'-hall. They objectto sitting down to meals with a Chinaman, as they call him.

"He seems intelligent?" remarked Malcolm Sage casually.

"On the contrary, he is an extremely stupid creature," was the reply.

"He is continually losing himself. Only yesterday morning I myself found him wandering about the corridor leading to my own bedroom.

Walters has also mentioned the matter to me."

Sir Lyster then passed on to the guests. They comprised Mrs. Selton,an aunt of Sir Lyster; Sir Jeffrey and Lady Trawlor, old friends oftheir hostess; Lady Whyndale and her two daughters. There were alsoMr. Gerald Nash, M. P., and Mr. and Mrs. Richard Winnington, oldfriends of Sir Lyster and Lady Grayne.

"Later, I may require a list of the guests," said Malcolm Sage, whenSir Lyster had completed his account. "You said, I think, that thekey of the safe was sometimes left in an accessible place?"

"Yes, in a drawer."

"So that anyone having access to the room could easily have taken awax impression."

"Sir Lyster flushed slightly.

"There is no one – " he began.

"There is always a potential someone," corrected Malcolm Sage, raising his eyes suddenly and fixing them full upon Sir Lyster.

"The question is, Sage," broke in Mr. Llewellyn John tactfully,"what are we to do?"

"I should first like to see the inside of the safe and the dummypacket," said Malcolm Sage, rising. "No, I will open it myself ifyou will give me the key," he added, as Sir Lyster rose and movedover to the safe.

Taking the key, Malcolm Sage kneeled before the safe door and, bythe light of an electric torch, surveyed the whole of the surfacewith keen-sighted eyes. Then placing the key in the lock he turnedit, and swung back the door, revealing a long official envelope asthe sole contents. This he examined carefully without touching it, his head thrust inside the safe.

"Is this the same envelope as that in which the document wasenclosed?" he enquired, without looking round.

The three men had risen and were grouped behind Malcolm Sage, watching him with keen interest.

"It's the same kind of envelope, but – " began

Sir Lyster, when Lord Beamdale interrupted.

"It's the envelope itself," he said. "I noticed that the right-handtop corner was bent in rather a peculiar manner."

Malcolm Sage rose and, taking out the envelope, carefully examinedthe damaged corner, which was bent and slightly torn.

"Yes, it's the same," cried Mr. Llewellyn John. "I remember tearingit myself when putting in the document."

"How many leaves of paper were there?" enquired Malcolm Sage.

"Eight, I think," replied Sir Lyster.

"Nine," corrected Lord Beamdale. "There was a leaf in front blankbut for the words, 'Plans Department.'"

"Have you another document from the same Department?" enquired

Malcolm Sage of Sir Lyster.

"Several."

"I should like to see one."

Sir Lyster left the room, and Malcolm Sage removed the contents ofthe envelope. Carefully counting nine leaves of blank white foolscap,he bent down over the paper, with his face almost touching it.

When Sir Lyster re-entered with another document in his hand MalcolmSage took it from him and proceeded to subject it to an equallyclose scrutiny, holding up to the light each sheet in succession.

"I suppose, Sir Lyster, you don't by any chance use scent?" enquired

Malcolm Sage without looking up.

"Mr. Sage!" Sir Lyster was on his dignity.

"I see you don't," was Malcolm Sage's calm comment as he resumed hisexamination of the dummy document. Replacing it in the envelope, hereturned it to the safe, closed the door, locked it, and put the keyin his pocket.

"Well! what do you make of it?" cried Mr. Llewellyn John eagerly.

"We shall have to take the Postmaster-general into our confidence."

"Woldington!" cried Mr. Llewellyn John in astonishment. "Why."

Sir Lyster looked surprised, whilst Lord Beamdale appeared almostinterested.

"Because we shall probably require his help."

"How?" enquired Sir Lyster.

"Well, it's rather dangerous to tamper with His Majesty's mailswithout the connivance of St. Martins-le-Grand," was the dry retort.

"But – " began Mr. Llewellyn John, when suddenly he stopped short.

Malcolm Sage had walked over to where his overcoat lay, and wasdeliberately getting into it.

"You're not going, Mr. Sage?" Sir Lyster's granite-like controlseemed momentarily to forsake him. "What do you advise us to do?"

"Get some sleep," was the quiet reply.

"But aren't you going to search for – ?" He paused as Malcolm Sageturned and looked full at him.

"A search would involve the very publicity you are anxious toavoid," was the reply.

"But – " began Mr. Llewellyn John, when Malcolm Sage interruptedhim.

"The only effective search would be to surround the house withpolice, and allow each occupant to pass through the cordon afterhaving been stripped. The house would then have to be gone through; carpets and boards pulled up; mattresses ripped open; chairs – "

"I agree with Mr. Sage," said Sir Lyster, looking across at the

Prime Minister coldly.

"Had I been a magazine detective I should have known exactly whereto find the missing document," said Malcolm Sage. "As I am not" – heturned to Sir Lyster – "it will be necessary for you to leave a notefor your butler telling him that you have dropped somewhere aboutthe house the key of this safe, and instructing him to have athorough search made for it. You might casually mention the loss atbreakfast, and refer to an important document inside the safe whichyou must have on Monday morning. Perhaps the Prime Minister willsuggest telephoning to town for a man to come down to force the safeshould the key not be found."

Malcolm Sage paused. The others were gazing at him with keeninterest.

"Leave the note unfolded in a conspicuous place where anyone can seeit," he continued.

"I'll put it on the hall-table," said Sir Lyster.

Malcolm Sage nodded.

"It is desirable that you should all appear to be in the best ofspirits." There was a fluttering at the corners of Malcolm Sage'smouth, as he lifted his eyes for a second to the almost lugubriouscountenance of Lord Beamdale. "Under no circumstances refer to therobbery, even amongst yourselves. Try to forget it."

"But how will that help?" enquired Mr. Llewellyn John, whose naturerendered him singularly ill-adapted to a walking-on part.

"I will ask you, sir," said Malcolm Sage, turning to him, "to giveme a letter to Mr. Woldington, asking him to do as I request. I willgive him the details."

"But why is it necessary to tell him?" demanded Sir Lyster.

"That I will explain to you to-morrow. That will be Monday,"explained Malcolm Sage, "earlier if possible. A few lines will do,"he added, turning to Mr. Llewellyn John.

"I suppose we must," said the Prime Minister, looking from Sir

Lyster to Lord Beamdale.

"I hope to call before lunch," said Malcolm Sage, "but as Mr. LeSage from the Foreign Office. You will refuse to discuss officialmatters until Monday. I shall probably ask you to introduce me toeveryone you can. It may happen that I shall disappear suddenly."

"But cannot you be a little less mysterious?" said Sir Lyster, witha touch of asperity in his voice.

"There is nothing mysterious," replied Malcolm Sage. "It seems quiteobvious. Everything depends upon how clever the thief is." He lookedup suddenly, his gaze passing from one to another of the bewilderedMinisters.

"It's by no means obvious to me," cried Mr. Llewellyn John, complainingly.

"By the way, Sir Lyster, how many cars have you in the garage?"enquired Malcolm Sage. "In case we want them," he added.

"I have two, and there are" – he paused for a moment – "five others,"he added; "seven in all."

"Any carriages, or dog-carts?"

"No. We have no horses."

"Bicycles?"

"A few of the servants have them," replied Sir Lyster, a littleimpatiently.

"The bicycles are also kept in the garage, I take it?"

"They are." This time there was no mistaking the note of irritationin Sir Lyster's voice.

"There may be several messengers from Whitehall to-morrow," saidMalcolm Sage, after a pause. "Please keep them waiting until theyshow signs of impatience. It is important. Whatever happens here, itwould be better not to acquaint the police —whatever happens," headded with emphasis. "And now, sir" – he turned to Mr. LlewellynJohn – "I should like that note to the Postmaster-general."

Mr. Llewellyn John sat down reluctantly at a table and wrote a note.

"But suppose the thief hands the document to an accomplice?" said

Sir Lyster presently, with something like emotion in his voice.

"That's exactly what I am supposing," was Malcolm Sage's reply and, taking the note that Mr. Llewellyn John held out to him, he placedit in his breast pocket, buttoned up his overcoat, and walked acrossto the window through which he had entered. With one hand upon thecurtain he turned.

"If I call you may notice that I have acquired a slight foreignaccent," he said, and with that he slipped behind the curtain. Amoment later the sound was heard of the window being quietly openedand then shut again.

"Well, I'm damned!" cried Lord Beamdale, and for the moment Mr.

Llewelyln John and Sir Lyster forgot their surprise at Malcolm

Sage's actions in their astonishment at their colleague's remark.