"I can tell you why," said Jimmy. "Or at least I can make a very shrewd guess. He was out of England from 1915 to 1918. I've taken the trouble to find that out. And nobody seems to know exactly where he was. I think he was in Germany."
The colour rose in Loraine's cheeks. She looked at Jimmy with admiration.
"How clever of you."
"He spoke German well, didn't he?"
"Oh! yes, like a native."
"I'm sure I'm right. Listen, you two. Gerry Wade was at the Foreign Office. He appeared to be the same sort of amiable idiot—excuse the term, but you know what I mean—as Bill Eversleigh and Ronny Devereux. A purely ornamental excrescence. But in reality he was something quite different. I think Gerry Wade was the real thing. Our secret service is supposed to be the best in the world. I think Gerry Wade was pretty high up in that service. And that explains everything! I remember saying idly that last evening at Chimneys that Gerry couldn't be quite such an ass as he made himself out to be."
"And if you're right?" said Bundle, practical as ever.
"Then the thing's bigger than we thought. This Seven Dials business isn't merely criminal—it's international. One thing's certain, somebody has got to be at this house-party of Lomax's."
Bundle made a slight grimace.
"I know George well—but he doesn't like me. He'd never think of asking me to a serious gathering. All the same, I might—"