“Excellent!” I said. “Then he didn’t produce any credentials?”
“None. But he argued with me for a long time—told me that I had no right to deny him access to information required for official purposes; that I was liable under the Defence of the Realm Act, and all sorts of other bunkum. In reply, I merely told him to go along to the office and see Mr Smallpiece, our manager—whom I knew to be up at the London office,” added the foreman with a grin.
“What kind of man was he? Describe him,” I urged.
“Well—he was about forty I should say—round-faced, with a little close-cropped black moustache. He was well dressed—a dark-blue overcoat with velvet collar, and a grey plush hat. He came in a taxi.”
“Ah! If we could find the driver, we might perhaps discover who he was,” I exclaimed.
“Well, sir, I suspected him, somehow. I didn’t like him. So I took the number of the taxi. You’ll see it on the back of the card.”
I looked, and there found a number scribbled in pencil.
“By Jove!” I cried. “Most excellent. I’ll soon find out what his movements were. Thank you very much,” I added. “Remember nobody is to know anything whatever of the work in progress. That man may have been a Spy.”
“That’s just exactly what I put him down to be, sir!” declared the foreman. “But trust me. Nobody shall know anything.”
When I rejoined Roseye and Teddy they were inquisitive—and very naturally—as to what the foreman had been telling me. But I kept my own counsel, determined to make investigations alone.