I'm going to send you in my
place, Okewood. I've got a conference with the head of the French
Intelligence at three, and the Lord knows when I shall get away.
I've a notion that you and Miss Mackwayte will work very well
together."
"Certainly," said Desmond, "she struck me as being a very
charming and clever girl. Now I know the source of your
information about my movements last night!"
"That you certainly don't!" answered the Chief promptly, " if I
thought you did Duff and No.39 should be sacked on the spot!"
"Then it wasn't Miss Mackwayte who told you?"
"I haven't seen or heard from Miss Mackwayte since she left my
office yesterday evening. You were followed!"
"But why?"
"I'll tell you all about it at, lunch!"
Bated once more, Desmond retired into his shell. By this he was
convinced of the utter impossibility of making the Chief
vouchsafe any information except voluntarily.
Mr. Marigold had evidently announced their coming to Scotland
Yard, for a very urbane and delightful official met them at the
entrance and conducted them to a room where the prisoner was
already awaiting them in charge of a plain clothes man. There the
official excused himself and retired, leaving them alone with the
prisoner and his escort.
Barney proved to be a squat, podgy, middle-aged Jew of the
familiar East End Polish or Russian type.
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