He sat in the armchair with the light shining upon his broad, bald head, while he puffed sedately at his cigar and watched the movements of his companion.

The large oak-panelled, book-lined room had a curtain hung in the further corner. When this was drawn it disclosed a large brass-bound safe. Von Bork detached a small key from his watch-chain, and after some considerable manipulation of the lock he swung open the heavy door.

‘Look!’ said he, standing clear, with a wave of his hand.

The light shone vividly into the opened safe, and the secretary of the Embassy gazed with an absorbed interest at the rows of stuffed pigeon-holes with which it was furnished. Each pigeon-hole had its label, and his eyes, as he glanced along them, read a long series of such titles as ‘Fords’, ‘Harbour-Defences’, ‘Aeroplanes’, ‘Ireland’, ‘Egypt’, ‘Portsmouth Forts’, ‘The Channel’, ‘Rosyth’, and a score of others. Each compartment was bristling with papers and plans.

‘Colossal!’ said the secretary. Putting down his cigar he softly clapped his fat hands.

‘And all in four years, Baron. Not such a bad show for the hard-drinking, hard-riding country squire. But the gem of my collection is coming and there is the setting all ready for it.’ He pointed to a space over which ‘Naval Signals’ was printed.

‘But you have a good dossier there already?’

‘Out of date and waste paper. The Admiralty in some way got the alarm and every code has been changed. It was a blow, Baron—the worst set-back in my whole campaign. But thanks to my cheque-book and the good Altamont, all will be well to-night.’

The Baron looked at his watch, and gave a guttural exclamation of disappointment.

‘Well, I really can wait no longer. You can imagine that things are moving at present in Carlton House Terrace and that we have all to be at our posts. I had hoped to be able to bring news of your great coup. Did Altamont name no hour?’

Von Bork pushed over a telegram.

‘Will come without fail to-night and bring new sparking-plugs. Altamont.’

‘Sparking-plugs, eh?’

‘You see, he poses as a motor expert and I keep a full garage. In our code everything likely to come up is named after some spare part. If he talks of a radiator it is a battleship, of an oil-pump a cruiser, and so on. Sparking-plugs are naval signals.’

‘From Portsmouth at midday,’ said the secretary, examining the superscription. ‘By the way, what do you give him?’

‘Five hundred pounds for this particular job. Of course, he has a salary as well.’

‘The greedy rogue. They are useful, these traitors, but I grudge them their blood-money.’

‘I grudge Altamont nothing. He is a wonderful worker. If I pay him well, at least he delivers the goods, to use his own phrase. Besides, he is not a traitor. I assure you that our most Pan-Germanic Junker is a sucking dove in his feelings towards England as compared with a real bitter Irish-American.’

‘Oh, an Irish-American?’