CHAPTER XVIII

Sir Henry was standing with his hands in his pockets and a very blank
expression upon his face, looking out upon the Admiralty Square. He was
alone in a large, barely furnished apartment, the walls of which were
so hung with charts that it had almost the appearance of a schoolroom
prepared for an advanced geography class. The table from which he had
risen was covered with an amazing number of scientific appliances, some
samples of rock and sand, two microscopes and several telephones.

Sir Henry, having apparently exhausted the possibilities of the outlook,
turned somewhat reluctantly away to find himself confronted by an
elderly gentleman of cheerful appearance, who at that moment had entered
the room. From the fact that he had done so without knocking, it was
obvious that he was an intimate.

"Well, my gloomy friend," the newcomer demanded, "what's wrong with
you?"

Sir Henry was apparently relieved to see his visitor. He pushed a chair
towards him and indicated with a gesture of invitation a box of cigars
upon his desk.

"Your little Laranagas," he observed. "Try one."

The visitor opened the box, sniffed at its contents, and helped himself.

"Now, then, get at it, Henry," he enjoined. "I've a Board in
half-an-hour, and three dispatches to read before I go in. What's your
trouble?"

"Look here, Rayton," was the firm reply, "I want to chuck this infernal
hole-and-corner business. I tell you I've worked it threadbare at
Dreymarsh and it's getting jolly uncomfortable."

The newcomer grinned.

"Poor chap!" he observed, watching his cigar smoke curl upwards. "You're
in a nasty mess, you know, Henry. Did I tell you that I had a letter
from your wife the other day, asking me if I couldn't find you a job?"

Sir Henry waited a little grimly, whilst his friend enjoyed the joke.

"That's all very well," he said, "but we are on the point of a
separation, or something of the sort. I'll admit it was all right at
first to run the thing on the Q.T., but that's pretty well busted up by
now. Why, according to your own reports, they know all about me on the
other side."

"Not a doubt about it," the other agreed. "I'm not sure that you haven't
got a spy fellow down at Dreymarsh now."

"I'm quite sure of it," Sir Henry replied grimly. "The brute was
lunching with my wife at the Carlton to-day, and, as luck would have it,
I was landed with that Russian Admiral's wife and sister-in-law. You're
brea