"Surprised to see me, eh?" exclaimed the young man, gripping John's hand heartily; then dropping his voice, "I'm here from the Chief. Is it quite private here?"
"Quite," John answered, "but I would rather take you into my room."
They went along the passage to John's bedroom. John seated himself on the bed, and Captain X. or Sinclair occupied the only chair.
"The Chief's thoroughly stirred up," said Sinclair, plunging into his subject without preliminary. "He has passed on your information to me. I must say you seem to have all the luck, Treves. A signal on the sands, eh? That beats everything for cunning. I have heard of clothes being hung out in the Morse code, and Morse smoke signals from a chimney—by the way, do you think your chap Sims signals with smoke from his bakehouse?"
John shook his head.
"I have spent hours looking at his chimney," he said. "It was the first thing I thought of when I began to suspect him, and it was only an accident which made me get on to his real game after all. I knew any kind of flash signal was out of the question here."
"Neatest thing they've done yet, eh, Treves? I must say this sort of thing makes the fight full of zipp and go," he said. Then he looked at John with a commiserating eye: "I am going to dash your spirits, old chap."
"Well, get on with it," said John.
"I am going to pick up the plums you have shaken off the tree."
"How's that?"