"That's all right for the public, Morden," he said. "But you'll see what I mean in a moment. Could they find some one even more rigidly secret than the rest? Eh?"
"I could," said Morden. "I can tell you his name. A man called Brailton, close over sixty, but very good indeed. He was the man we used when there was that trouble about the death in Lady Matcham's house just before her administration went out of office."
"Oh, was he?" cried the Home Secretary eagerly. "Was he?" Then with great satisfaction in his voice: "In that case he is all right. It was certainly astonishing, the way that was kept back....You see, Morden, it's something of the same case here. The trouble is in my own house ... Paulings."
For once Morden was genuinely taken aback. He was silent. "I see," he at last murmured gravely. "Your house—and the safe side?—Of course!"
"It's in my own house—and the safe side? Good God, yes!" The Home Secretary spoke firmly. Then after a pause he added, "When they find out who has done it ..."
"Done what?" said Morden.
"Never mind," answered his courteous chief. "You're bound to know all about it in good time. Well, as I was saying, when they know who's done it, it might turn out to be some one of whom not a soul in the Press must know that he has done it. I mean, if he has done it, nobody must know that it was he who did it, outside the few who know that he has. Have I made myself quite, quite clear?" he asked anxiously.
"Perfectly," said Morden.
"Now this man Brailton. When could he get down to Paulings?"
"He could come at an hour's notice," said Morden. "He got back from Yorkshire last night, and he's got nothing on for the moment."