sly.

"Why," said Sevington, in awe, "the whole social and industrial fabric
of the world would crumble into dust. America would be ruined for a
hundred years, there would be deaths by the million. It means the very
end of civilization!"

Beale glanced from one to the other of the little group.

Sevington, with his hard old face set in harsh lines, a stony sphinx of
a man showing no other sign of his emotions than a mop of ruffled hair.

Kitson, an old man and almost as hard of feature, yet of the two more
human, stood with pursed lip, his eyes fixed on the floor, as if he were
studying the geometrical pattern of the parquet for future reference.

McNorton, big, red-faced and expressionless, save that his mouth dropped
and that his arms were tightly folded as if he were hugging himself in a
sheer ecstasy of pain. From the street outside came the roar and rumble
of London's traffic, the dull murmur of countless voices and the shrill
high-pitched whine of a newsboy.

Men and women were buying newspapers and seeing no more in the scare
headlines than a newspaper sensation.

To-morrow they might read further and grow a little uncomfortable, but
for the moment they were only mildly interested, and the majority would
turn to the back page for the list of "arrivals" at Lingfield.

"It is unbelievable," said Kitson. "I have exactly the same feeling I
had on August 1, 1914--that sensation of unreality."

His voice seemed to arouse the Foreign Minister from the meditation into
which he had fallen, and he started.

"Beale," he said, "you have unlimited authority to act--Mr. McNorton,
you will go back to Scotland Yard and ask the Chief Commissioner to
attend at the office of the Privy Seal. Mr. Beale will keep in touch
with me all the time."

Without any formal leave-taking he made his exit, followed by
Superintendent McNorton.

"That's a badly rattled man," said Kitson shrewdly, "the Government may
fall on this news. What will you do?"

"Get van Heerden," said the other.

"It is the job of your life," said Kitson quietly, and Beale knew within
a quarter of an hour that the lawyer did not exaggerate.

Van Heerden had disappeared with dramatic suddenness. Detectives who
visited his flat discovered that his personal belongings had been
removed in the early hours of the morning. He had left with two trunks
(which were afterwards found in a cloak-room of a London railway
terminus) and a companion who was identified as