d yourself, that others might not be
implicated--has not been overlooked. Your future is assured, Inspector
Sheffield."

The gentleman who had admitted Sheffield had left the apartment almost
immediately afterwards. Now he returned, and fastened a pin in the
detective's tie.

"By way of apology for spoiling your case, Sheffield!" he said.

What Sheffield said or did at that moment he could never afterwards
remember. A faint recollection he had of muttering something about
"Severac Bablon----!"

"Ssh!" Mr. Belford had replied. "There is no such person!"

It was at the moment of his leave-taking that his eyes were drawn to an
ash-tray upon the big table. A long tongue of bluish-grey smoke licked
the air, coiling sinuously upward from amid cigar ends and ashes. It
seemingly possessed a peculiar and pungent perfume.

And it proceeded from the smouldering fragment of a yellow cigarette.

* * * * *

When Inspector Sheffield fully recovered his habitual composure and
presence of mind, he found himself proceeding along Piccadilly. War was
in the breeze; War was on all the placards. Would-be warriors looked out
from every club window. "Rule, Britannia" rang out from every street
organ.

Then came running a hoarse newsboy, aproned with a purple contents-bill,
a bundle of _Gleaners_ under his arm. His stock was becoming depleted at
record speed. He could scarce pass the sheets and grab the halfpence
rapidly enough.

For where all else spoke of war, his bill read and his blatant voice
proclaimed:

"PEACE! _Official!_"

Again the power of the Seal had been exercised in the interests of the
many, although popularly it was believed, and maintained, that Britain's
huge, efficient, and ever-growing air-fleet contributed not a little to
this peaceful conclusion.

The _Gleaner_ assured its many readers that such was indeed the case. To
what extent the _Gleaner_ spoke truly, and to what extent its statements
were inspired, you are as well equipped to judge as I.

And unless some future day shall free my pen, I have little more to tell
you of Severac Bablon. Officially, as the Holder of the Seal, his work,
at any rate for the time, in England was done. Some day, Sheard may
carry his history farther, and he would probably begin where I leave
off.

This, then, will be at a certain pier-head, on a summer's day, and at a
time when, far out near the sky-line, grey shapes crept
southward--battle