LINCKES’ GREAT CASE

A mysterious leakage of Cabinet documents and the trust of a very charming young person gave Linckes the chance of his life.

I.

THE chief paused and glanced sharply across the table to where Roger Linckes sat facing him, listening to his discourse.

“It is a big job,” Masters said abruptly. “So much is at stake. It’s not like safe stage robbery, where Lady So-and-So’s pearls are stolen. It’s—well, the whole country—perhaps all Europe—is implicated. Maybe I’m wrong to set you on to it. You’re very young; you’ve had very little experience.”

The younger man flushed slightly under his tan.

“I know, sir.”

Masters looked him over thoughtfully, from his grave young eyes to his brogued shoes. He smiled a little.

“Anyhow, right or wrong, I’m going to let you see what you can do. I must admit I haven’t much hope. Where Tiffrus and Pollern have failed, a comparative tyro isn’t likely to succeed. But you did exceedingly well over that Panton affair, and it’s just possible, you might hit on a solution to this mystery.” He drummed on the table, frowning. “I’ve known it happen before. I suppose the big detectives get stale, or something approaching it. Let’s hope you’ll bring fresh ideas into the business. How much do you know about it?”

Linckes crossed his legs, clasping his hands about one knee. “Precious little, sir. You’ve seen to that, haven’t you? Nothing known to the papers, I mean. All I know is that there’s a leak in the Cabinet. Knowledge of our doings is being sold to Russia and to Germany. You say it has been going on for some time. The Soviet got wind of our new submarines. Hardly anyone in England knew about ’em, and yet Russia discovered the secret! Someone must have duplicated the plans and sold them—probably he’s done it many times before—and that someone must be one of those in the small circle of people who knew all the details of the new subs. In fact, he must have been a pretty big man. It only remains for us to find out which one.”

“Very easy,” Masters grunted. “It might have been a secretary.”

“It might,” conceded Linckes.

“You don’t think so?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem likely. Who was in that circle?”

“The Government knew all about the submarines,” Masters answered. “But the actual plans at the time of the betrayal had been seen only by Caryu, the Secretary for War, Winthrop, the Under-Secretary, and Johnson for the Admiralty, and the inventor, of course, Sir Duncan Tassel. That rather dishes your theory, doesn’t it? Naturally, Tassel is above suspicion; so is Caryu; so are the other two.”

“Are you sure that no one else knew of the plans?”

“No, I’m not sure. I’m convinced that someone else did know—must have known. Winthrop swears no one could have known, but he can’t supply a counter-theory. He’s more or less running the investigation, you know.”

“What does he say?”