“Oh! I can tell you that. I went down to the village this afternoon to arrange for some petrol to be sent up. I was standing near the door of the King’s Head, when I saw a telegraph boy go into the Anchor with a telegram, and a minute afterwards the Count and his secretary came out, got into the motor, and rushed off full pelt to the station, just in time for the 4 o’clock.”
“Sharp work!” said Maurice. “Those fellows must have handed in a telegram directly we got to Waterloo. No doubt they heard me tell the taxi-driver to drive to the Foreign Office, and the Count hurried up to see what he could get. He couldn’t have reached Waterloo more than five minutes before the down train started. He must have arranged for the car to meet him at Sunbury, so that there would be no inquiries about the exchange of bags here. My bag was empty; it’s lucky the Secretary hadn’t his despatch ready.”
By this time they had reached the post-office. Maurice slipped his letter into the aperture, and threw a look round. The man who had preceded them along the road had disappeared. There were lights in the Anchor, but no one was in sight.
“I say, Maurice,” said George as they returned, “would a nobleman descend to such dirty work as spying?”
“If he’s a spy, he’s no more a count than I am,” Maurice replied. “He’s probably some clever rascal with a turn for languages; certainly his appearance and manner would pass muster anywhere. Of course I may be utterly mistaken; but seeing this is an important business, it will be just as well to take a few precautions to cover my departure to-morrow. We’ll suppose they are actually spying on me. Well, if I leave the house with baggage they’ll know I’m off on a journey, and will dog me. I’ll go up by the 10 o’clock without my valise, and one or more of those fellows will come too, you may be sure. They won’t watch you in my absence; you can bring up my valise by your gyro-car, and meet me in the lounge of the Grand Hotel at Charing Cross after I’ve left the Foreign Office. You can leave the car in the garage. Don’t go through the village, and they won’t be any the wiser.”
“I say, this is jolly. It will be no end of a lark to do them. But look here, old boy, if they are spies, they must keep watch night and day.”
“I daresay they do. We’ll find that out.”
About midnight the brothers, wearing overcoats and slippers, left the house by the backdoor, stole along the shrubbery that bounded it on one side, and so came to the hedge dividing the garden from the road. George crawled through the hedge at the bottom where the foliage was thinnest, and peered up the road towards the village. Nobody was in sight. But as they went up to their bedrooms they glanced out of a window on the staircase, overlooking the field on the other side of the road. A full moon threw its light from behind the house. Just beyond the hedge of the field opposite they caught sight of a man smoking a cigar.
“There’s our proof,” said Maurice quietly.
“By gum! we’ll dish them,” cried his brother.