"I am to understand then," commented His Excellency suavely, "that you made absolutely no effort—"
"You are to understand just that," said Philip quietly. "Moreover," he manfully met his chief's level glance with one of inexorable decision, "I sincerely regret that hereafter I shall be unable to discharge my duties as your secretary."
The Baron stirred.
"I may be honored by your reasons, Poynter?" he inquired quietly.
"The duties of a spy," flashed Philip, "are peculiarly offensive to me. So is Themar."
"Themar!"
"Excellency," said Philip curtly, "to-night as I entered, the lamplight fell full upon the face and throat of your valet."
"Yes?"
"Themar's throat, Excellency, bears peculiar scars."
"My dear Poynter! Themar's fall injured him severely about the face and hands."