He shook Caryu’s outstretched hand, and went to the door.

“Mind you, I think you’ve got a bee in your bonnet,” Caryu warned him. “If you haven’t—well, it’ll be a fairly large feather in the bonnet instead.”

V.

“GOT another fit of the blues, Winthrop?”

Sir Charles looked up, smiling.

“Getting rather frequent, aren’t they? Sorry I’m such a surly brute. It’s very nice of you to consent to stay and dine with me.”

Linckes leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs.

“It’s jolly nice of you to ask me,” he retaliated. “I don’t wonder you’re feeling depressed.”

Winthrop gave a short sigh.

“’Tisn’t very surprising, is it? We don’t seem to get any forrader, do we? Since your ingenious Burton theory there haven’t been any fresh suspicions, have there?”

Linckes turned sharply. Caryu’s secretary had just come into the room. Linckes looked him over quickly, conscious of a sinking sensation of disappointment somewhere in the region of his stomach.

“Good-evening, Sir Charles! Mr. Caryu sent me with one or two things for you to sign.”

Winthrop had risen.

“Yes, that’s right. Oh, don’t go, Linckes! It’s nothing private.”

Dully Linckes watched Fortescue lay his dispatch-case on the table and insert a key into the lock. After a moment’s twisting and turning he drew it out again and looked up at Winthrop, rather white about the mouth.

“Funny!” he said uneasily. “It won’t open!”

Linckes’ heart leapt. He lounged back at his ease, outwardly careless, but his eyes never left Winthrop’s face.

“Won’t open? Perhaps you’ve got hold of the wrong key?”

“No; it’s a special lock and key.”

Fortescue’s eyes were rather wide.

“Then something must have gone wrong with the lock,” said Winthrop impatiently. “You must force it.”

“Ah!” Relief sounded in the secretary’s voice. “That’s it, of course. I got hung up on one ‘island’ in the middle of Piccadilly, and when half the people surged forward into the road there was a bit of a scrum, and I dropped the case. I suppose that did it.”

“You dropped it?” Winthrop asked. “Rather careless, surely!”

Fortescue flushed.

“Yes, Sir Charles. But it fell at my feet, and I’d picked it up in a flash.”

“I see.”

Breathlessly Linckes watched the secretary burst open the lock.

“Mr. Caryu told me to ask you to run through his memorandum concerning the Crosstown Barracks, sir. Here it is!”

He was turning over some long envelopes. One of these he handed to Winthrop, who took it and pulled out several folded sheets. There was a moment’s silence, broken only by the crackle of paper as Winthrop spread open the papers. Then Linckes saw Sir Charles look up sharply at Fortescue, the lines about his mouth suddenly grown stern.

“Ah, yes!” he said quietly. “Anything else?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Caryu placed several documents in the case. I don’t know what they were, but he told me to give—”

“Give them to me, please. Thank you!” Winthrop cast a hurried glance at each of the sealed documents handed to him. Then he laid the whole sheaf down upon his desk, and shot the secretary a long, keen look. Lastly he turned to Linckes.