And then he said very
deliberately in German:
"War niemand da?"
Desmond stood up promptly.
"What do you want with me?" he asked quietly, "and why do you
speak German in my house?" Mortimer gazed at him blankly.
"Excellence, most excellent," he gasped. "I love prudence. My
friend, where are your eyes?"
He put a large, firm hand up and touched the upper edge of the
left lapel of his jacket. Desmond followed his gesture with his
eyes and saw the other's first finger resting on the shiny glass
head of a black pin. Almost instinctively Desmond imitated the
gesture. His fingers came into contact with a glassheaded pin
similarly embedded in the upper edge of the lapel of his own
coat.
Then he understood. This must be the distinguishing badge of this
confraternity of spies. It was a clever idea, for the black pin
was practically invisible, unless one looked for it, and even if
seen, would give rise to no suspicions. It had obviously escaped
the notice of the Chief and his merry men, and Desmond made a
mental resolve to rub this omission well into his superior on the
first opportunity. He felt he owed the Chief one.
Mr. Mortimer cleared his throat, as though to indicate the
conclusion of the episode. Desmond sat down on the settee.
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