"I'd like to wring Lady Rachel's neck!" said John, swept out of himself.
"I could tell you a score of such cases," said Dacent Smith. "In one case a present of a hundred cigarettes and a silly woman's curiosity meant one of the greatest disasters that has occurred to us since the war began." He suddenly stopped, pulled himself up, and became normal in tone. He was fully himself again, the keen, resourceful man of action. "Now, Treves," he said, "we must get back to business. Lady Rachel Marvin has been a valuable 'feeder' to the enemy. She is now out of action, however. I regard," he went on, "Beecher Monmouth, M.P., as also dangerous. Is that your opinion?"
"My opinion," said John, "is that Beecher Monmouth is not disloyal, but, as he is wax in his wife's hands, his political position makes him dangerous."
"You don't believe he could keep a secret from her?"
"From what I've seen of them both, sir, I should doubt it."
Dacent Smith went to his desk and made a note on his writing pad. "I will write a note to the Home Secretary. I think we can get rid of Beecher Monmouth without arousing suspicion. Now, Treves, in regard to the sinking of the Malta—we are a little bit at sea in this matter. Mrs. Beecher Monmouth and her accomplices have out-manoeuvred us. In some manner or other she managed to get her information to Germany, or to a German submarine commander, eight hours after picking up the facts from Lady Rachel Marvin. We want to know how she managed to do this, Treves."
He crossed the room as he spoke, and took a sheaf of papers from his cabinet of drawers against the wall. He handed the documents to John. John observed that the sheets were thin and almost transparent, and that each sheet had been written over in indelible pencil.
"You have in your hand," explained Dacent Smith, "intercepted copies of all Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's letters since the fifteenth of last month. That is," he added, "all the letters she has sent through the post. You will notice among them three advertisements—all jewellery for sale."
John glanced at the pile of letters in his hand. There were among them orders to tradesmen, half a dozen letters to a dressmaker, showing the great care with which Mrs. Beecher Monmouth apparelled herself; and two letters written and posted to her husband. These last were interlarded with extravagant expressions of affection and love. But it was the third advertisement, addressed to a famous daily paper, that held John's interest. This ran:
"Lady wishes to sell privately a pearl and platinum pendant, perfectly-matched pearls, surrounding Orient pearl of splendid lustre.—Apply Box A3656."