"He's made a mistake," said Laurence. "How in hell could he see
Barraclough when——" There was no point in finishing the sentence.
"S'not often he make a mistake. Our opponents haf been ver' quiet, you know, ver' quiet. Perhaps now they draw the kipper across the path."
"He's got bats," said Hipps. "Been standing in the sun."
"I'd ignore the whole thing," said Laurence. "Ten to one it's a trick.
A stunt put up by our adversaries."
"In our private code, Laurence? No, no, no. I tink it wass well we take some precautions with this gentlemen who wass so like our guest. You will telephone to Mr. Phillips please that I would like some of those roads that lead into London made—difficult." Then as Laurence seemed disposed to argue: "You haf your orders," he thundered.
As Laurence was leaving the room, Auriole came in and stood hesitating on the threshold.
"Ah! Miss Craven," said Van Diest stooping to kiss her fingers. "For you a little work. You will talk to our guest, yes? So stubborn he wass. You ver' clever woman, ver' gentle. You put your arms around him—so! You whisper, you beseech, you ver' sympathetic. P'r'aps you make 'im cry. Then he tell you what he refuse to tell us. S'understood?"
"Yes, I understand," said Auriole in a small voice.
"Goot! Then we go downstairs now. Come, Hipps." At the door he paused. "S'ver' important you succeed because we haf tried all the rest." He spoke the final words slowly and with great meaning, then turned and went out.
Auriole caught Ezra Hipps by the sleeve as he passed her.