“In London—where Sir Richard is—I shall
explain everything. Up to that time and place, questions are useless, Mac.�
The inspector sniffed and ran his keen eyes over the cabin. He turned and glanced up the alley-way.
“Come on deck when ye want to,� he said softly. “Ye’ll find oil-skins and boots in the ward-room. We’re slithering toward the North o’ England at a tremendous rate. We’ll be there, this time tomorrow. A’y’ll give ye that long to think things over.�
Fay watched him disappear toward the bow of the destroyer. He sat down and lowered his face in his hands. The noises of their swift passage drove out all thoughts of escape. There were many alert men on the boat. Discipline was stern and thorough. The trap had been well sprung. It was the first stage of the journey back to Dartmoor.
He reviewed the series of events. It seemed that he had been gripped by a relentless urging since the hour MacKeenon had stood in that stone-lined courtyard at Dartmoor. There flashed over his brain the swirl and surge of affairs. He thought of every little detail—the cipher papers—the coming of Dutch Gus—the package in the embassy’s safe—the smoked-glasses.
But one phase of the matter was illuminating. The others were blurred and destroying. Saidee Isaacs had cleared herself in a satisfactory manner. She was shown up in loyal colors. He no longer had any doubt of her.
He rose, thrust his arms in the sleeves of his coat, and pulled his cap down over his head. He glanced
into a tiny mirror. His beard on chin and upper lip showed prominently. He had not shaved for days. There was a fighting light in his eyes, however, which had always been with him.
“I’m not beat!� he declared as he passed out the cabin and into a narrow, steel-lined alley-way. “I’ll find Saidee and talk things over.�