“We have no corroboration that he really did find that actually among the dead man’s possessions,” exclaimed Lord Warnham quickly. “I have myself seen the detective who accompanied him to Shepperton, and he tells me that no sheets of paper of that character were discovered. He—”
“I found them while he was engaged in an adjoining room,” I interrupted. “I did not mention it to him, preferring to bring the evidence straight to you.”
“It is just possible that Deedes’s version is correct,” observed the Premier. “Personally, I must say, Warnham, that I cannot see any ground for the dismissal of a hitherto trustworthy servant of Her Majesty upon this extraordinary evidence. I have always found Deedes upright, loyal and patriotic, and coming as he does of a well-known family of diplomats, I really do not suspect him of having played his country false.”
“I am obliged for your Lordship’s words,” I exclaimed fervently. “I assure you that your merciful view is entirely correct. I am innocent, and at this moment am utterly at a loss to account for any of the amazing events of the past few days.”
Lord Warnham was silent in thought for a few moments, then, turning his sphinx-like face to me, he said, in a tone rather more conciliatory than before, “Very well. As it is Lord Maybury’s wish, I will reinstate you in the Service; but remember, I have no confidence in you.”
“Then you still suspect me of being a spy?” I cried reproachfully. “I am to remain under suspicion!”
“Exactly,” he answered dryly. “Until the truth is ascertained I, at least, shall believe you had something to do with the theft of that secret convention. Even the telegram sent from the Strand Post-Office to St Petersburg is in your handwriting—”
“Forged!” I interposed. “Have you not already seen the careful attempts made to copy the formation of my letters and figures?”
“The greatest calligraphic expert of the day has pronounced the telegram to be undoubtedly in your own hand, while the counter-clerk who took in the message and received payment for it, has seen you surreptitiously, and recognised you by the shape of the silk hat you habitually wear.”
Here was an astounding case of mistaken identity. I had never entered the post-office near Exeter Hall for six months at least.