ehall. There he
sent up his name, and the message that it was urgent. A few minutes
later he was in the presence of the man who did not here go by the name
of "Mr. Carter." There was a frown on his face.

"Look here, you've no business to come asking for me in this way. I
thought that was distinctly understood?"

"It was, sir. But I judged it important to lose no time."

And as briefly and succinctly as possible he detailed the experiences of
the last few days.

Half-way through, Mr. Carter interrupted him to give a few cryptic
orders through the telephone. All traces of displeasure had now left his
face. He nodded energetically when Tommy had finished.

"Quite right. Every moment's of value. Fear we shall be too late anyway.
They wouldn't wait. Would clear out at once. Still, they may have left
something behind them that will be a clue. You say you've recognized
Number 1 to be Kramenin? That's important. We want something against him
badly to prevent the Cabinet falling on his neck too freely. What about
the others? You say two faces were familiar to you? One's a Labour man,
you think? Just look through these photos, and see if you can spot him."

A minute later, Tommy held one up. Mr. Carter exhibited some surprise.

"Ah, Westway! Shouldn't have thought it. Poses as being moderate. As for
the other fellow, I think I can give a good guess." He handed another
photograph to Tommy, and smiled at the other's exclamation. "I'm right,
then. Who is he? Irishman. Prominent Unionist M.P. All a blind, of
course. We've suspected it--but couldn't get any proof. Yes, you've done
very well, young man. The 29th, you say, is the date. That gives us very
little time--very little time indeed."

"But----" Tommy hesitated.

Mr. Carter read his thoughts.

"We can deal with the General Strike menace, I think. It's a
toss-up--but we've got a sporting chance! But if that draft treaty turns
up--we're done. England will be plunged in anarchy. Ah, what's that?
The car? Come on, Beresford, we'll go and have a look at this house of
yours."

Two constables were on duty in front of the house in Soho. An inspector
reported to Mr. Carter in a low voice. The latter turned to Tommy.

"The birds have flown--as we thought. We might as well go over it."

Going over the deserted house seemed to Tommy to partake of the
character of a dream. Everything was just as it had been. The prison
room with the crooked pictures, the broken jug in the att