usly, and then refasten with fresh solder. I
opened all the tins, found that all except one had been undisturbed,
but that one was a blissful reward for all my trouble, for in it was a
tightly packed mass of glazier's putty, soft and heavy, and at the
bottom the carefully folded paper which I have now the honour of
showing to you."

Dawson handed me a stiff piece of paper, slimy to the touch and
smelling strongly of white lead. Upon it were two neatly made drawings
and some lines of words and figures. "It is just what I should have
expected," said I.

"You recognise it?"

"Of course," said I. "We have here a deck plan showing the disposition
of guns, and a section plan showing arrangement of armour, of one of
the big new ships which has been completed for the Grand Fleet. Below
we have the number and calibre of the guns, the thickness and extent
of the armour, the length, breadth, and depth of the vessel, her
tonnage, her horse power, and her estimated speed. Everything is
correct except the speed, which I happen to know is considerably
greater than the figure set down."

"You have not by any chance seen that paper before?" asked Dawson,
with rather a forced air of indifference.

"This? No. Why?"

"I was curious, that's all." He looked at me with a queer, quizzical
expression, and then laughed softly. "You will understand my question
directly, but for the moment let us get on. What sort of person should
you say made those drawings and wrote that description?"

I am no Sherlock Holmes; but any one who has had some acquaintance
with engineers and their handiwork can recognise the professional
touch.

"These drawings are the work of a trained draughtsman, and the writing
is that of a draughtsman. One can tell by the neatness and the
technique of the shading."

"Right first time," said Dawson approvingly. "At present I have that
draughtsman comfortably locked up; we picked him out of the drawing
office at ----" he named a famous yard in which had been built one of
the ships of the class illustrated upon the paper in my hands.

"Poor devil," I said. "What is the cause--drink, women, or the
pressure of high prices and a large family?"

"None of them. His employers give him the best of characters, he gets
good pay, is a man over military age, and has, so far as the police
can learn, no special embarrassments. He owns his house, and has two
or three hundred pounds in the War Loan."

"Then why in the name of won