Sir Denis nodded.
"You've got the story all right," he said. "Well, those papers never were in that trunk. I brought them over myself in the City of Boston. I brought them over under the nose of a Secret Service man, and although the steamer and all of us on board were searched from head to foot in the Mersey before we were permitted to land."
"And where are they now?" Michael Dilwyn asked.
Sir Denis drew a long envelope from his pocket and laid it upon the table before him. Almost as he did so, another little sensation brought them all to their feet. They hurried to the window. From about a mile out seaward, a blue ball, followed by another, had shot up into the sky. Sir Denis watched for a moment steadily. Then he pointed to a bonfire which had been lighted on the beach.
"That," he pointed out, "is my signal, and there is the answer. The documents you have all read about are in that envelope."
There was a queer, protracted silence, a silence of doubt and difficulty.
"It will be a German submarine, that," Michael Dilwyn declared. "She has come to pick up your papers, maybe?"
"That's true," was the quiet answer. "I was to light the fire on the beach the moment I arrived. The blue balls were to be my answer."
The O'Clory, a big, silent man, leaned over and laid his hand on his host's shoulder.
"What are you going to do about it?" he demanded.