in a very large
assortment of clothes of every description, all new or nearly so,
and bearing the name of a famous tailor of Cork Street. Folding
doors, resembling a cupboard, disclosed, when open, a marble
basin with hot water laid on, while a curtained door in the
corner of the room gave access to a white tiled bathroom. Mr.
Bellward, Desmond had reflected after his tour of the room on his
arrival, evidently laid weight on his personal comfort; for the
contrast between the cheerful comfort of his bedroom and the
musty gloom of the rooms downstairs was very marked.

A bright log fire hissed on the open hearth and the room was
pleasantly warm. Old Martha's coffee was excellent, and Desmond,
very snug in Mr. Bellward's comfortable bed, noted with regret
that the clock on the mantel-shelf marked a quarter to twelve.
But then he thought of the tete-a-tete luncheon that awaited him
at one o'clock and his face cleared. He didn't mind getting up so
much after all.

He fell again to the perusal of the documents which he had found,
as indicated in the note from headquarters, in the desk by the
bed. They were enclosed in two envelopes, one large, the other
small, both without any superscription. The large envelope
enclosed Mr. Bellward's dossier which consisted of a fairly
detailed account of his private life, movements, habits and
friends, and an account of his arrest. The small envelope
contained Desmond's eagerly expected orders.

Desmond examined the papers in the large envelope first. From
them he ascertained that the house in which he found himself was
called The Mill House, and was situated two and a half miles from
the station of Wentfield on the Great Eastern Railway in Essex.
Mr. Bellward had taken the place some eight years before, having
moved there from the Surrey hills, but had been wont to spend not
more than two months in the year there. For the rest of the time
he traveled abroad, usually passing the winter months on the
Riviera, and the spring in Switzerland or Italy. The war had
brought about a change in his habits, and Harrogate, Buxton and
Bath had taken the place of the Continental resorts which he had
frequented in peace time.

When in residence at The Mill House, Mr. Bellward had gone up to
London nearly every morning, either walking or going by
motor-cycle to the station, and not returning until dinner-time
in the evening. Sometimes he passed the night in London, and on
such occasions slept at a