cret connection with Scotland Yard, which was purely patriotic and
conducted as a student of underground crime, had taught him many strange
things, and he had learnt many remarkable secrets. Some of them were,
indeed, his secrets before they became secrets of the Cabinet.

Many of those secrets he kept to himself, one being the remarkable truth
that General Sir Hugh Elcombe was implicated in a very strange jumble of
affairs--a matter that was indeed incredible.

To the tall, well-groomed, military-looking man with whom he stood at
eleven o'clock on the following morning--in a private room at New
Scotland Yard--he had never confided that discovery of his. To have done
so would have been to betray a man who had a brilliant record as a
soldier, and who still held high position at the War Office.

By such denunciation he knew he might earn from "the eyes of the
Government" very high commendation, in addition to what he had already
earned, yet he had resolved, if possible, to save the old officer, who
was really more sinned against than sinning.

"You seem to keep pretty close at the heels of your friend, the doctor of
Vauxhall Bridge Road!" laughed Trendall, the director of the department,
as they stood together in the big, airy, official-looking room, the two
long windows of which looked out over Westminster Bridge.

"You've been in France, Montgomery says. What was your friend doing
there?"

"He's been there against his will--very much against his will!"

"And you've found out something--eh?"

"Yes," replied Fetherston. "One or two things."

"Something interesting, of course," remarked the shrewd, active,
dark-haired man of fifty, under whose control was one of the most
important departments of Scotland Yard. "But tell me, in what direction
is this versatile doctor of yours working just at the present?"

"I hardly know," was the novelist's reply, as in a navy serge suit he
leaned near the window which overlooked the Thames. "I believe some deep
scheme is afoot, but at present I cannot see very far. For that reason I
am remaining watchful."

"He does not suspect you, of course? If he does, I'd give you Harris, or
Charlesworth, or another of the men--in fact, whoever you like--to assist
you."

"Perhaps I may require someone before long. If so, I will write or wire
to the usual private box at the General Post Office, and shall then be
glad if you will send a man to meet me."

"Certainly. It was you, Fetherston