“In the North Sea, I believe. A certain scheme has been arranged which will, we hope, prove effectual.”
“A trap, I suppose?”
Trustram laughed faintly.
“I didn’t tell you so, remember,” he said quickly.
“Ah, I see!—a trap to draw the German Fleet north—up towards Iceland. Is my surmise correct?”
Trustram’s smile was a silent affirmative. “This is indeed interesting,” Rodwell exclaimed. “I won’t breathe a word to anyone. When is it to be?”
“Within a week.”
“You mean in a week. To-day is Wednesday—next Wednesday will be the sixteenth.”
Again Trustram smiled, as Rodwell, with his shrewd intelligence, divined the truth.
“It’s all arranged—eh? And orders have been sent out to the Fleet?” asked the financier.