"You won't," he assured me.
"But why this afternoon rather than this morning? You can send the servant out for a message whenever you choose."
"I hope to have a pleasant little surprise for you in the afternoon."
I was aware of the fondness of these secret-service agents for a bit of mystery, and I knew I had to humour him. But really it seems a childish kind of vanity.
"There is one thing you can do for me," I said. "If I am to kick up my heels in this room all day—and probably for several days—I must have a pen and ink and some foolscap."
After his fashion he asked no questions but merely nodded, and presently brought them.
The truth was, I had conceived the idea of writing some account of my adventure, and in fact I am writing these lines now in that very bedroom I have described. I am telling a story of which I don't know the last chapter myself. A curious position for an author! If I am caught—well, it will make no difference. I have given nothing away that won't inevitably be discovered if I am arrested. And, mein Gott, what a relief it has been! I should have died of boredom otherwise.
If only my window looked out to sea! But, unluckily, I am at the back of the house and look, as it were sideways, on to a sloping hillside of green ferns below and brown heather at the top. By opening the window and putting my head right out, I suppose I should catch a glimpse of the sea, but then my neighbours would catch a glimpse of me. I expostulated with Tiel as soon as I realised how the room faced, but he points out that the servant may go into any room in the front part of the house, whereas this part is supposed to be closed. I can see that he is right, but it is nevertheless very tantalising.
On that Saturday afternoon Tiel came back to my room some hours later, and under his quiet manner I could see that he bore tidings of importance. No one could come quicker to the point when he chose, and this time he came to it at once.
"You remember the affair of the Haileybury?" he demanded.