LITMIR.BIZ

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Hebblethwaite would say to that?”

      “I am perfectly convinced,” Norgate replied, “that Hebblethwaite would work for peace at any price. The members of our present Government are pacifists, every one of them, with the possible exception of the Secretary of the Admiralty.”

      “Ah!” Mr. Selingman murmured. “Mr. Spencer Wyatt! He is the gentleman who clamours so hard and fights so well for his navy estimates. Last time, though, not all his eloquence could prevail. They were cut down almost a half, eh?”

      “I believe that was so,” Norgate admitted.

      “Mr. Spencer Wyatt, eh?” Selingman continued, his eyes fixed upon the ceiling. “Well, well, one cannot wonder at his attitude. It is not his role to pose as an economist. He is responsible for the navy. Naturally he wants a big navy. I wonder what his influence in the Cabinet really is.”

      “As to that,” Norgate observed, “I know no more than the man in the street.”

      “Naturally,” Mr. Selingman agreed. “I was thinking to myself.”

      There was a brief silence. Norgate glanced around the room.

      “I don’t see Mrs. Benedek here this afternoon,” he remarked.

      Selingman shook his head solemnly.

      “The inquest on the death of that poor fellow Baring is being held to-day,” he explained. “That is why she is staying away. A sad thing that, Norgate—a very sad happening.”

      “It was indeed.”

      “And mysterious,” Selingman went on. “The man apparently, an hour before, was in high spirits. The special work upon which he was engaged at the Admiralty was almost finished. He had received high praise for his share in it. Every one who had seen him that day spoke of him as in absolutely capital form. Suddenly he whips out a revolver from his desk and shoots himself, and all that any one knows is that he was rung up by some one on the telephone. There’s a puzzle for you, Norgate.”

      Norgate made no reply. He felt Selingman’s eyes upon him.

      “A wonderful plot for the sensational novelist. To the ordinary human being who knew Baring, there remains a substratum almost of uneasiness. Where did that voice come from that spoke along the wires, and what was its message? Baring, by all accounts, had no secrets in his life. What was the message—a warning or a threat?”

      “I did not read the account of the inquest,” Norgate observed. “Wasn’t it possible to trace the person who rang up, through the telephone office?”

      “In an ordinary case, yes,” Selingman agreed. “In this case, no! The person who rang up made use of a call office. But come, it is a gloomy subject, this. I wish I had known that you were likely to see Mr. Hebblethwaite this afternoon. Bear this in mind in case you should come across him again. It would interest me very much to know whether any breach of friendship has taken place at all between him and Mr. Spencer Wyatt. Do you know Spencer Wyatt, by-the-by?”

      “Only slightly,” Norgate replied, “Not well enough to talk to him intimately, as I can do to Hebblethwaite.”

      “Well, remember that last little commission,” Selingman concluded. “Are you staying on or leaving now? If you are going, we will walk together. A little exercise is good for me sometimes. My figure requires it. It is a very short distance, but it is better than nothing at all.”

      “I am quite ready,” Norgate assured him.

      They left the room and descended the stairs together. At the entrance to the building, Selingman paused for a moment. Then he seemed suddenly to remember.

      “It is habit,” he declared. “I stand here for a taxi, but we have agreed to walk, is it not so? Come!”

      Norgate was looking across the street to the other side of the pavement. A man was standing there, engaged in conversation with a plainly-dressed young woman. To Norgate there was something vaguely familiar about the latter, who turned to glance at him as they strolled by on the other side of the road. It was not until they reached the corner of the street, however, that he remembered. She was the young woman at the telephone call office near Westbourne Grove!

      CHAPTER XXII

       Table of Contents

      Mr. Hebblethwaite was undoubtedly annoyed. He found himself regretting more than ever the good nature which had prompted him to give this visitor an audience at a most unusual hour. He had been forced into the uncomfortable position of listening to statements the knowledge of which was a serious embarrassment to him.

      “Whatever made you come to me, Mr. Harrison?” he exclaimed, when at last his caller’s disclosures had been made. “It isn’t my department.”

      “I came to you, sir,” the official replied, “because I have the privilege of knowing you personally, and because I was quite sure that in your hands the matter would be treated wisely.”

      “You are sure of your facts, I suppose?”

      “Absolutely, sir.”

      “I do not know much about navy procedure,” Mr. Hebblethwaite said thoughtfully, “but it scarcely seems to me possible for what you tell me to have been kept secret.”

      “It is not only possible, sir,” the man assured him, “but it has been done before in Lord Charles Beresford’s time. You will find, if you make enquiries, that not only are the Press excluded to-day from the shipbuilding yards in question, but the work-people are living almost in barracks. There are double sentries at every gate, and no one is permitted under any circumstances to pass the outer line of offices.”

      Mr. Hebblethwaite sat, for a few moments, deep in thought.

      “Well, Mr. Harrison,” he said at last, “there is no doubt that you have done what you conceived to be your duty, although I must tell you frankly that I wish you had either kept what you know to yourself or taken the information somewhere else. Since you have brought it to me, let me ask you this question. Are you taking any further steps in the matter at all?”

      “Certainly not, sir,” was the quiet reply. “I consider that I have done my duty and finished with it, when I leave this room.”

      “You are content, then,” Mr. Hebblethwaite observed, “to leave this matter entirely in my hands?”

      “Entirely, sir,” the official assented. “I am perfectly content, from this moment, to forget all that I know. Whatever your judgment prompts you to do, will, I feel sure, be satisfactory.”

      Mr. Hebblethwaite rose to his feet and held out his hand.

      “Well, Mr. Harrison,” he concluded, “you have performed a disagreeable duty in a tactful manner. Personally, I am not in the least grateful to you, for, as I dare say you know, Mr. Spencer Wyatt is a great friend of mine. As a member of the Government, however, I think I can promise you that your services shall not be forgotten. Good evening!”

      The official departed. Mr. Hebblethwaite thrust his hands into his pockets, glanced at the clock impatiently, and made use of an expression which seldom passed his lips. He was in evening dress, and due to dine with his wife on the other side of the Park. Furthermore, he was very hungry. The whole affair was most annoying. He rang the bell.

      “Ask Mr. Bedells to come here at once,” he told the servant, “and tell your mistress I am exceedingly sorry, but I shall be detained here for some time. She had better go on without me and send the car back. I will come as soon as I can. Explain that it is a matter of official business. When you have seen Mrs. Hebblethwaite, you can bring me a glass of sherry and a biscuit.”

      The man withdrew, and Mr. Hebblethwaite opened a telephone directory. In a few moments Mr. Bedells, who was his private secretary, appeared.

      “Richard,”

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