Mrs.
Malplaquet, all of you, look at this wretched fellow"--he pointed
a finger of scorn at Bellward--"trembling with fright at the role
that has been thrust upon him, to force his way into our midst,
to give his accomplice the tip to clear out before the police
arrive."

"Stop!" exclaimed Mortimer, raising his pistol. Behrend caught
his hand.

"We'll hear you in a minute!" he said.

"Let him finish!" said Mrs. Malplaquet, and there was a certain
ominous quietness in her tone that startled Desmond.

As for Bellward, he remained silent, with arms folded, listening
very intently.

"Doubtless, this double of mine," continued Desmond in a mocking
voice, "is the bearer of the Star of Poland, the wonderful jewel
which has required our beloved leader to devote so much of his
time to a certain charming lady. Bah! are you going to let a man
like this," and he pointed to Mortimer disdainfully with his
hand, "a man who puts you in the fighting line while he amuses
himself in the rear, are you going to let this false friend, this
bogus spy, cheat you like this? My friends, my advice to you, if
you don't want to have another and yet more disagreeable
surprise, is to make sure that this impudent imposter is not here
for the purpose of selling us all!"

He raised his voice until it rang through the room, at the same
time looking round the group at the faces of the spies to see how
his harangue had worked upon their feelings. Max and Behrend, he
could see, were on his side; No. 13 was obviously, undecided;
Mortimer and Bellward were, of course, against him; Mrs.
Malplaquet sat with her hands in her lap, her eyes cast down,
giving no sign.

"It's high time..." Mortimer began violently but Mrs. Malplaquet
put up her hand and checked him.

"Better hear Bellward!" she said softly.

"I know nothing of what has been taking place in my absence," he
said, "either here or outside. I only know that I escaped from
the escort that was taking me back from Scotland Yard to Brixton
Prison this evening and that the police are hard on my track. I
have delayed too long as, it is. Every one of us in this room,
with the exception of the traitor who is amongst us"--he pointed
a finger in denunciation at Desmond--"is in the most imminent
peril as long as we stay here. The rest of you can please
yourselves. I'm off!"

He turned and pressed the spring. The book shelves swung open.
Behrend sprang forward.

"Not so fast," he cried. "You don'