As Dr Ackrington sealed and directed this letter a trace of complacency lightened the habitual austerity of his face. He rang the bell, ordered a small whisky and soda and with an air of relishing his employment began a second letter.

Roderick Alleyn, Esq., Chief Inspector, CID,

c/o Central Police Station,

Auckland.

Sir,

The newspapers, with gross indiscretion, report you as having come to this country in connection with scandalous leakages of information to the enemy, notably those which led to the sinking of SS Hippolyte last November.

I consider it my duty to inform you of the activities of a person at present living at Wai-ata-tapu Hot Springs, Harpoon Inlet. This person, calling himself Maurice Questing and staying at the local Spa, has formed the habit of leaving the house after dark. To my positive knowledge, he ascends the mountain known as Rangi’s Peak, which is part of the native reserve and the western face of which looks out to sea. I have myself witnessed on several occasions a light flashing on the slopes of this face. You will note that Hippolyte was torpedoed at a spot some two miles out from Harpoon Inlet.

I have also to report that, on being questioned as to his movements, Mr Questing has returned evasive and even lying answers.

I conceived it my duty to report this matter to the local police authorities, who displayed a somnolence so profound as to be pathological.

I have the honour to be,

Yours faithfully,

JAMES ACKRINGTON, MD, FRCS, FRCP

The servant brought the drink. Dr Ackrington accused him of having substituted an inferior brand of whisky for the one ordered, but he did this with an air of routine rather than of rage. He accepted the servant’s resigned assurances with surprising mildness, merely remarking that the whisky had probably been adulterated by the makers. He then finished his drink, clapped his hat on the side of his head and went out to post his letters. The hall porter pulled open the door.

‘War news a bit brighter this morning, sir,’ said the porter tentatively.

‘The sooner we’re all dead, the better,’ Dr Ackrington replied cheerfully. He gave a falsetto barking noise, and limped quickly down the steps.

‘Was that a joke?’ said the hall porter to the servant. The servant turned up his eyes.

II