Chester Fay watched the stout form of the Chief of Division as he crossed the room, tapped lightly on the door which led to the hallway, then waited with his fingers toying with a heavy, gold chain which crossed a vest the color of old wine.
MacKeenon turned the knob and came into the room. He closed and locked the door at Sir Richard’s suggestion. He sniffed the air of the room, glanced keenly toward Fay, then said:
“Ye have come to an understanding?�
“We have!� declared Sir Richard. “Fay is with us. You know what that means? We are bound to get the key and trick the Germans.�
“A’ hae noo doot ov it,â€� said the Scotch detective, rubbing his hands and peering for a second time at the cracksman. “A verra gude mon—but a wee bit reckless.â€�
Sir Richard laughed pleasantly. “Oh, we’re all that way—more or less. I guess it was recklessness that broke the Hindenburg Line. It would never have been done if we had counted the cost.â€�
Fay moved around the end of the table and stood by the three black boxes. He studied the situation from every angle. It was possible to escape. It was
not too late to go back on his bargain with Sir Richard. A swift rush, the bowling over of the two detectives, and a plunge through the shrubbery of the house would carry him to westward, where quiet, shaded lamps and reaching aisles of mansions would offer freedom for all time.
He waited to hear more. The gripping mystery of the cipher clutched and stilled his desire for liberty. There would be other chances at a later hour.
There was something of the American in Sir Richard. Fay watched the two detectives come across the room, take seats at the table and then pull toward themselves the locked boxes.