John Dene Of Toronto Part 45

"I'm the biggest fool in London," said Thompson without looking up.

"Only just discovered it?" she asked casually. "Poor old Tommikins,"

she added, prepared to dodge at the least sign of an offensive movement on the part of her colleague; but Thompson was too engrossed in introspective a.n.a.lysis to be conscious of what was taking place about him.

"We're on the eve of developments," said Malcolm Sage one afternoon some weeks later, as Colonel Walton entered his room, closing the door behind him.

"Anything new?" he enquired, dropping into a chair beside Sage's table.

"I'm afraid there's going to be trouble."

"Not resigning?" there was a twinkle in Colonel Walton's eye. In their infinite variety the resignations of Malcolm Sage would have filled a Blue Book.

"I don't like the look of things," continued Sage, pulling steadily at his pipe and ignoring the remark. "Naylor's playing his own game, I'm sure and," he added, looking up suddenly, "it's an ugly game."

"Bluff, that accusing Finlay of acting on his own about John Dene."

Malcolm Sage nodded his head slowly several times. For some minutes he continued to smoke with a mechanical precision that with him always betokened anxiety.

"It's the dug-out business, I don't like," he said at length.

Colonel Walton nodded. "You think?" he queried.

Sage nodded, his face was unusually grave.

During the previous week it had been discovered that Mr. Naylor was having constructed in his back-garden a dug-out, to which to retire in case of air-raids, and he was himself a.s.sisting with the work of excavation.

Finlay had confirmed Malcolm Sage's suggestion that Naylor was suspicious. There had been a quarrel between the two, which had taken place through intermediaries. Naylor had accused Finlay of being responsible for the disappearance of John Dene. Finlay had responded by a like accusation, and the threat of serious consequences to Naylor when the facts were known in a certain quarter.

"We've got to speed up." Malcolm Sage addressed the remark apparently to the thumbnail of his left hand.

Colonel Walton nodded.

"I don't like that dug-out business at all," continued Sage. "The changing of the site too," he added.

"Had they got far with the first one?" enquired Colonel Walton

"About five feet down; but they haven't filled it in yet."

Colonel Walton looked up quickly. His face was grave.

"Naylor says they must get the dug-out finished first in case of a raid. He can fill in the old hole at any time."

"A dug-out after nearly four years of raids?"

"Exactly," said Sage, "that and the unfilled hole and Naylor's own activities----" He broke off significantly.

"About the reward? It would be awkward if---- Come in."

Colonel Walton broke off at the sound of a knock at the door.

Thompson entered with an ebony walking stick in one hand, a silver k.n.o.b and a small piece of paper in the other. He held out the paper to Malcolm Sage, who, with a motion of his head, indicated Colonel Walton.

He was very punctilious in such matters. Colonel Walton took the slip of paper and read aloud.

"Arrest me late to-night and have me taken to Tower. Slip the dogs to-morrow certain, delay dangerous.

J. F."

For fully a minute the three men were silent. Colonel Walton began to draw diagrams upon his blotting pad Malcolm Sage gazed at his finger-nails, whilst Thompson stood stiffly erect, his face pale and his mouth rigid. Presently Sage looked up.

"I'm afraid there'll be no spring-mattress for you to-night, Thompson,"

he said. "I'll ring in a few minutes," and Thompson drew a sigh of relief as he turned towards the door, which a moment afterwards closed behind him.

"We can't do it to-night," announced Sage with decision.

Colonel Walton shook his head.

"He must take the risk until the morning," continued Sage. "You'll be here until it's all through?" he interrogated.

Colonel Walton nodded. When thoughtful he was more than usually sparing of words.

"About the reward?" he interrogated, as Sage rose and moved towards the door.

"We'll withdraw it in to-morrow evening's papers," was the response, "if you agree."

Again Colonel Walton nodded, and Malcolm Sage went out, bent on reminding Scotland Yard of his existence.

CHAPTER XVII

MALCOLM SAGE CASTS HIS NET

I

"I'm afraid there'll be trouble with the people at the Tower," remarked Malcolm Sage, who, with the aid of his briar pipe, was doing his best to reduce the visibility.

"Zero is noon," mused Colonel Walton.

Sage nodded.

"They'll begin to drift in about twelve-thirty," he continued, puffing placidly at his cigar.

"Well, it's been interesting, and it'll give the Skipper a sort of joy day with the War Cabinet," said Sage quietly. "To-morrow ought to be rather a large breakfast-party," he added drily.