"No. I don't doubt, though, there's some good reason for it, but my lord! what wouldn't I give to hear his blessed voice or see his face at this moment!"
Possibly in the whole period of his professional career Mr. Narkom had never had a wish granted so speedily, for as the words left his lips, the door behind him flashed open and shut again and there on the threshold stood a stout, elderly, seafaring man. The sight of him caused the Inspector fairly to spring from his seat.
"Cleek!" he cried. "Cleek! Lord, I did want you. I——"
Cleek smiled as he bore up under the onslaught. "Thought you would when I saw the papers," he said. Mr. Narkom snorted as if at the name of a hated enemy, then turned to Hammond.
"Nor a word outside, Hammond, but tell Lennard to come round at once. We shall need him!"
Once alone, he turned again to his partner.
"I suppose it's those explosions," said Cleek, as having divested himself of some of the "Burbage disguise," he dived for a cigarette.
"No, they're an extra burden," said Mr. Narkom, "as if I'm not nearly mad already! And now there's been another one this morning on Tooting Common. But it's this Government business that is killing me."
Cleek twitched an inquiring eyebrow and waited patiently for the facts.