till June 15th, and ticked each off with a red pencil, making remarks in

shorthand against them. I would find him sunk in a brown study, with his sharp

eyes abstracted, and after those spells of meditation he was apt to be very

despondent.

 

Then I could see that he began to get edgy again. He listened for little noises,

and was always asking me if Paddock could be trusted.

 

Once or twice he got very peevish, and apologized for it. I didn’t blame him. I

made every allowance, for he had taken on a fairly stiff job.

 

It was not the safety of his own skin that troubled him, but the success of the

scheme he had planned. That little man was clean grit all through, without a

soft spot in him. One night he was very solemn.

 

“Say, Hannay,” he said, “I judge I should let you a bit deeper into this

business. I should hate to go out without leaving somebody else to put up a

fight.” And he began to tell me in detail what I had only heard from him

vaguely.

 

I did not give him very close attention. The fact is, I was more interested in

his own adventures than in his high politics. I reckoned that Karolides and his

affairs were not my business, leaving all that to him. So a lot that he said

slipped clean out of my memory. I remember that he was very clear that the

danger to Karolides would not begin till he had got to London, and would come