'Not that I think it will do much good. If your friends were
clever enough to find out the first arrangement they are clever

enough to discover the change. I would give my head to know
where the leak is. We believed there were only five men in England

who knew about Royer's visit, and you may be certain there were
fewer in France, for they manage these things better there.'

While I ate he continued to talk, making me to my surprise a
present of his full confidence.

'Can the dispositions not be changed?' I asked.
'They could,' he said. 'But we want to avoid that if possible.

They are the result of immense thought, and no alteration would be
as good. Besides, on one or two points change is simply impossible.

Still, something could be done, I suppose, if it were absolutely
necessary. But you see the difficulty, Hannay. Our enemies are not

going to be such fools as to pick Royer's pocket or any childish
game like that. They know that would mean a row and put us on

our guard. Their aim is to get the details without any one of us
knowing, so that Royer will go back to Paris in the belief that the

whole business is still deadly secret. If they can't do that they fail,
for, once we suspect, they know that the whole thing must be altered.'

'Then we must stick by the Frenchman's side till he is home
again,' I said. 'If they thought they could get the information in

Paris they would try there. It means that they have some deep
scheme on foot in London which they reckon is going to win out.'

'Royer dines with my Chief, and then comes to my house where
four people will see him - Whittaker from the Admiralty, myself,

Sir Arthur Drew, and General Winstanley. The First Lord is ill,
and has gone to Sheringham. At my house he will get a certain

document from Whittaker, and after that he will be motored to
Portsmouth where a destroyer will take him to Havre. His journey

is too important for the ordinary boat-train. He will never be left
unattended for a moment till he is safe on French soil. The same

with Whittaker till he meets Royer. That is the best we can do, and
it's hard to see how there can be any miscarriage. But I don't mind

admitting that I'm horriblynervous. This murder of Karolides will
play the deuce in the chancelleries of Europe.'

After breakfast he asked me if I could drive a car.
'Well, you'll be my chauffeur today and wear Hudson's rig.

You're about his size. You have a hand in this business and we are
taking no risks. There are desperate men against us, who will not

respect the country retreat of an overworked official.'
When I first came to London I had bought a car and amused

myself with running about the south of England, so I knew something
of the geography. I took Sir Walter to town by the Bath

Road and made good going. It was a soft breathless June morning,
with a promise of sultriness later, but it was delicious enough

swinging through the little towns with their freshly watered streets,
and past the summer gardens of the Thames valley. I landed Sir

Walter at his house in Queen Anne's Gate punctually by half-past
eleven. The butler was coming up by train with the luggage.

The first thing he did was to take me round to Scotland Yard.
There we saw a prim gentleman, with a clean-shaven, lawyer's face.

'I've brought you the Portland Place murderer,' was Sir Walter's
introduction.

The reply was a wry smile. 'It would have been a welcome
present, Bullivant. This, I presume, is Mr Richard Hannay, who for

some days greatly interested my department.'
'Mr Hannay will interest it again. He has much to tell you, but

not today. For certain grave reasons his tale must wait for
four hours. Then, I can promise you, you will be entertained and

possibly edified. I want you to assure Mr Hannay that he will suffer
no further inconvenience.'

This assurance was promptly given. 'You can take up your life
where you left off,' I was told. 'Your flat, which probably you no

longer wish to occupy, is waiting for you, and your man is still
there. As you were never publicly accused, we considered that there

was no need of a public exculpation. But on that, of course, you
must please yourself.'

'We may want your assistance later on, MacGillivray,' Sir Walter
said as we left.

Then he turned me loose.
'Come and see me tomorrow, Hannay. I needn't tell you to keep

deadly quiet. If I were you I would go to bed, for you must have
considerable arrears of sleep to overtake. You had better lie low,

for if one of your Black Stone friends saw you there might be trouble.'
I felt curiously at a loose end. At first it was very pleasant to be a

free man, able to go where I wanted without fearing anything. I
had only been a month under the ban of the law, and it was quite

enough for me. I went to the Savoy and ordered very carefully a
very good luncheon, and then smoked the best cigar the house

could provide. But I was still feeling nervous. When I saw anybody
look at me in the lounge, I grew shy, and wondered if they were

thinking about the murder.
After that I took a taxi and drove miles away up into North

London. I walked back through fields and lines of villas and terraces
and then slums and mean streets, and it took me pretty nearly two

hours. All the while my restlessness was growing worse. I felt that
great things, tremendous things, were happening or about to

happen, and I, who was the cog-wheel of the whole business, was
out of it. Royer would be landing at Dover, Sir Walter would be

making plans with the few people in England who were in the
secret, and somewhere in the darkness the Black Stone would be

working. I felt the sense of danger and impendingcalamity, and I
had the curious feeling, too, that I alone could avert it, alone could

grapple with it. But I was out of the game now. How could it be
otherwise? It was not likely that Cabinet Ministers and Admiralty

Lords and Generals would admit me to their councils.
I actually began to wish that I could run up against one of my

three enemies. That would lead to developments. I felt that I
wanted enormously to have a vulgar scrap with those gentry, where

I could hit out and flatten something. I was rapidly getting into a
very bad temper.

I didn't feel like going back to my flat. That had to be faced
some time, but as I still had sufficient money I thought I would put

it off till next morning, and go to a hotel for the night.
My irritation lasted through dinner, which I had at a restaurant

in Jermyn Street. I was no longer hungry, and let several courses
pass untasted. I drank the best part of a bottle of Burgundy, but it

did nothing to cheer me. An abominable restlessness had taken
possession of me. Here was I, a very ordinary fellow, with no

particular brains, and yet I was convinced that somehow I was
needed to help this business through - that without me it would all

go to blazes. I told myself it was sheer silly conceit, that four or
five of the cleverest people living, with all the might of the British

Empire at their back, had the job in hand. Yet I couldn't be
convinced. It seemed as if a voice kept speaking in my ear, telling

me to be up and doing, or I would never sleep again.
The upshot was that about half-past nine I made up my mind to

go to Queen Anne's Gate. Very likely I would not be admitted, but
it would ease my conscience to try.

I walked down Jermyn Street, and at the corner of Duke Street
passed a group of young men. They were in evening dress, had

been dining somewhere, and were going on to a music-hall. One of
them was Mr Marmaduke jopley.

He saw me and stopped short.