ant him never to see your faces--to deal only with me," Cawdor
explained. "Remember that he is in an official position. The money he is
going to part with is secret service money."

The two men were beginning to be more reassured. Rounceby slowly
produced a roll of oilskin from his pocket.

"He'll look at them as he sits there," he insisted. "There must be no
copying or making notes, mind."

Cawdor smiled in a superior fashion.

"My dear fellow," he said, "you are dealing with the emissary of a
government--not one of your own sort."

Rounceby glanced at his companion, who nodded. Then he handed over the
plans.

"Tell him to look sharp," he said. "It's not so late but that there may
be people in here yet."

Cawdor crossed the room with the plans, and laid them down before the
writing table. Rounceby rose to his feet and lit a cigar. Marnstam
walked to the further window and back again. They stood side by side.
Rounceby's whole frame seemed to have stiffened with some new emotion.

"There's something wrong, Jim," Marnstam whispered softly in his ear.
"You've got the old lady in your pocket?"

"Yes!" Rounceby answered thickly, "and, by Heavens, I'm going to use
it!"

"Don't shoot unless it's the worst," Marnstam counselled. "I shall go
out of that window, into the tree, and run for the river. But bluff
first, Jim--bluff for your life!"

There were swinging doors leading into the room from the hotel side, and
a small door exactly opposite which led to the residential part of the
place. Both of these doors were opened at precisely the same moment.
Through the former stepped two strong looking men in long overcoats, and
with the unmistakable appearance of policemen in plain clothes. Through
the latter came John Dory! He walked straight up to the two men.
It spoke volumes for his courage that, knowing their characters and
believing them to be in desperate straits, he came unarmed.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I hold warrants for your arrest. I will not
trouble you with your aliases. You are known to-day, I believe, as James
Rounceby and Richard Marnstam. Will you come quietly?"

Marnstam's expression was one of bland and beautiful surprise.

"My dear sir," he said, edging, however, a little toward the
window--"you must be joking! What is the charge?"

"You are charged with the wilful murder of a young man named Victor
Franklin," answered Dory. "His body was recovered from Longthorp Tarn
this afternoon. You had be