John Dene Of Toronto Part 17

Very gingerly John Dene unrolled the paper, Dorothy watching from a safe distance with wide-eyed curiosity.

"Gee!" he muttered, as a large dead grey rat lay exposed, its upper lip drawn back from his teeth, giving it a snarling appearance. He looked interrogatingly at Colonel Walton.

"There; but for the grace of G.o.d lies John Dene of Toronto," he remarked quietly, nodding in the direction of the two rodents.

"Here, what the h.e.l.l----!" began John Dene, then catching sight of Dorothy he stopped suddenly.

"Two days ago you ordered for lunch ris de veau and apple tart--among other things. The rat is the victim of the one, the guinea-pig of the other."

Dorothy gave a little cry of horror. John Dene looked across at her quickly, then back to Colonel Walton.

"You mean----" he began.

"That a certain Department has a.s.sumed the responsibility of catering for a distinguished visitor," was the quiet reply. "It is but one of the pleasant obligations of empire."

John Dene sat gazing at the dead animals as if fascinated. With distended eyes and slightly parted lips Dorothy looked from the table to Colonel Walton, and then back to the table again, as if unable to comprehend the full significance of what was taking place.

"I would suggest," said Colonel Walton, "that you never take food regularly at any one hotel or restaurant. Avoid being out late at night, particularly raid-nights."

"Raid-nights!"

"You might be knocked on the head and removed as a casualty."

John Dene nodded, Dorothy gasped.

"Never take food or drink of any sort in your room at the hotel, and don't travel on the Tube or Underground, at least never stand on the edge of the platform, and don't use taxis."

"And what about a nurse?" demanded John Dene.

"If you observe these points I scarcely think one would be necessary,"

was the quiet rejoinder. "It would also be advisable," continued Colonel Walton, "for Miss West to be particularly careful about making chance acquaintances."

Dorothy drew herself up stiffly.

"During the last few days," continued Colonel Walton, "a number of attempts have been made by women as well as men."

"How did you know?" she cried in surprise.

"We have sources of information," smiled Colonel Walton. "For instance, the day before yesterday, at lunch, a pleasant-spoken old lady asked you to go with her to the theatre one Sat.u.r.day afternoon."

Dorothy gasped.

"You very rightly declined. A few days ago a man ran after you just as you had left the Tube train at Piccadilly Circus, saying that you had left your umbrella."

"How funny that you should know!" cried Dorothy. "Such a number of people have spoken to me lately. First it was men, and now it's always women."

"Make no acquaintances at all, Miss West," said Colonel Walton.

"I'll remember," she said, nodding her head with decision.

"Well, Mr. Dene, I fear I mustn't take up any more of your time," said Colonel Walton, rising, with that air of indolence which with him invariably meant that something important was coming. "If you will not allow us to be responsible for your own safety, we must at least provide for that of Government servants."

"What's that?"

"We should not like anything to happen to Miss West."

To Colonel Walton's "Good-day" John Dene made no response, he seemed unaware that he had left the room.

"Gee!" he muttered at length, then swinging round to Dorothy with a suddenness that caused her to start, "You had better vamoose," he cried.

"Vam----" she began. "How do I do it?"

"Quit, clear out of here." He sprang from his chair and proceeded to pace up and down the room.

"Does that mean that I'm discharged?" she enquired, smiling.

"You heard what he said. They're up to their funny work. They missed us this time and got the rat and guinea-pig. They're always at it. I don't make a fuss; but I know. There'll be a bomb in my bed one of these nights. You'd better call a halt right here."

"Shall we get on with the letters, Mr. Dene?" said Dorothy quietly.

"Father was a soldier."

For a moment he looked at her with his keen penetrating eyes, then swinging round to his table caught sight of the two dead rodents.

"Here, what the blazes does he want to leave these things here for," he cried irritably and, seizing a ruler, he swept them into the waste-paper basket.

For the rest of the day Dorothy was conscious that John Dene's heart was not in his work. Several times, when happening to look up unexpectedly, she found his eyes on her, and there was in them an anxiety too obvious to be dissimulated. John Dene was clearly worried.

"It's an extraordinary thing," Sage remarked later that afternoon to Colonel Walton, "that apparently no one has ever thought of encouraging a taste for apple-tart in guinea-pigs."

CHAPTER VI

MR. MONTAGU NAYLOR OF STREATHAM

Whilst John Dene was preparing interminable lists for the Victualling and Stores Departments of the Admiralty, Department Z. was making discreet and searching enquiries regarding Mr. Montagu Naylor of Streatham. Among other things it discovered that he was essentially English. The atrocities in Belgium and Northern France rendered him almost speechless with indignation. Wherever he went, and to whomsoever he met, he proclaimed the German an enemy to civilisation.

It was his one topic of conversation, and in time his friends and acquaintance came to regard the word "Hun" as a danger signal.

Mr. Naylor had arrived at Streatham towards the end of 1909, coming from no one knew whither; but according to his own account from Norwich. He was of independent means, without enc.u.mbrances beyond a wife, a deaf servant, registered as a Swiss, and a particularly fierce-dispositioned chow, an animal that caused marked irregularity in the delivery of his milk, newspapers and letters. Sometimes the animal chose to resent the approach of all comers, and after the postman had lost a portion of his right trouser-leg, he had decided that whatever might happen to His Majesty's mails, the postman's calf was sacred.

Thenceforth he never delivered letters when James was at large.

Without partic.i.p.ating in the postman's mishap, the paper-boy and milkman had adopted his tactics. The dustman point-blank refused to touch the refuse from "The Cedars" unless it were placed on the pavement, and the gate securely closed.

Sometimes the readings of the electric and gas meters were formally noted by officials, whose uniform began and ended with their caps; sometimes they were not. Everything depended upon the geographical position of James at the moment of the inspector's call.

The baker who supplied Mr. Naylor had, as a result of a complaint from his man, made a personal call of protest; but he had succeeded only in losing his temper to Mr. Naylor and the seat of his trousers to James.

Thenceforth "The Cedars" had to seek its bread elsewhere. Incidentally the master-baker obtained a new pair of trousers at Mr. Naylor's expense.