“The chart of the mine field of which you possessed yourself,” he said, “which it was the object of your visit here to secure, was a chart specially prepared for you. You see, our own Secret Service is not altogether asleep. Those very safe and inviting-looking channels for British and Allied traffic—I marked them very clearly, didn't I?—were where I'd laid my mines. The channels which your cruisers so carefully avoided were the only safe avenues. So you see why it is, Maderstrom, that I have no grudge against you.”
Lessingham's face for a moment was the face of a stricken man. There was a look of dull horror in his eyes.
“Is this the truth?” he gasped.
“It is the truth,” Sir Henry assured him gravely.
“Does this conclude the explanations?” Captain Griffiths demanded impatiently. “Your news is magnificent, Sir Henry. As regards this felon—”
Sir Henry held up his hand.
“Maderstrom's fate,” he said, “is mine to deal with and not yours, Captain Griffiths.”
Philippa was the first to grasp the intentions of the man who was standing only a few feet from her. She threw herself upon his arm and dragged down the revolver which he had raised. Sir Henry, with a shout of fury, was upon them at once. He took Griffiths by the throat and threw him upon the sofa. The revolver clattered harmlessly on to the carpet.
“His Majesty's Service has no use for madmen,” he thundered. “You know that I possess superior authority here.”
“That man shall not escape!” Griffiths shouted.