going to hop to Croydon within a few minutes. Can you meet me there?”
“I say, Barnes, what's up?” the Duke of Malbury asked.
“Ill tell you when I see you at Croydon in—about an hour and a half. Right?” Bill said.
“Right,” Mace repeated. “I'll be there, Barnes. And I repeat it will be delightful. Cheerio.”
Bill put the instrument in its cradle and immediately began a great fuss and bustle about getting away. He didn't want to be asked any more questions.
As he took the Lancer into the air, a man who was a visitor to the air terminal approached the manager on the apron. He was a small man with an olive skin and dark eyes. He might have been a native of any one of several countries of southern Europe.
“Wasn't that that American chap, Barnes?” he asked the manager in excellent English.
“That's right,” the manager said, admiration shining in his eyes. “Bill Barnes.”
“That is a great ship he has there. What is he doing over here?” the small man asked.
“I don't know,” the manager answered. “He's on his way to Croydon.” He looked down at the little man as Bill's ship became a mere speck in the air to the east. “Why?” he added.
The small man shrugged his shoulders with a true Latin gesture and moved away without answering.
VII—SPY SYSTEM
LONDON was a great mass of blurred lights through the fog hanging over it as Bill cut south to pick up the steady beacons of Croydon. He circled the great airport twice as he received landing instructions from the radio control tower, then took the big ship in with a precision landing that was characteristic of him.
He climbed out and saw the lean, tanned face of the man he had first known in Jogam as Colonel Mace, and later in Egypt as the Duke of Malbury, coming toward him. He noticed that his hair was a trifle whiter and his military mustache more closely clipped than the last time he had seen him. And then they were shaking hands. They were genuinely glad to see one another. When Malbury had finished with Bill he turned his attentions to the grinning Sandy.
“Are you still reading those books that teach you how to be the master of your fate?” the Duke of Malbury asked Sandy.
“No,” Bill said. “He has a new one now. At the moment he's collecting autographs. You'll hear about it.”
“Thanks for breaking it. Bill,” Sandy said, whipping the little leather-bound book out of an overall pocket. He turned over the pages and stuck a pencil in the Duke's hand. “Just sign it there.”
The Duke of Malbury wrote his name and chuckled. “You still work fast, eh?”
“Can you arrange things so that they put the Lancer under lock and key for me here?” Bill asked him.
“Easily,” the duke said. “I have a motor here. Well roll down to London. I'm anxious to hear your story. Knowing you, I know it won't be prosaic.”
A short time later the three of them were settled in Malbury's chauffeur-driven Sunbeam landaulet.
“You'd better plug up that speaking tube so your chauffeur won't hear us,” Bill said when Malbury asked him a question.
“Righto.” Malbury stuck a handkerchief into the mouthpiece.
Then Bill unfolded the things that had occurred to him during the past twenty-four hours, interspersing them with an account of the man he called the Saver of Souls.
They were deep into the heart of the great city of London before Bill had finished. Malbury had only interrupted a half-dozen times to ask questions.
Now, his breath exhaled through his lips in a long, low whistle. His eyes were half-closed as he shook his head slowly from side to side.
“A tale I would not believe if it hadn't come from you, Barnes,” he said. “A most incredible thing.”
“It is,” Bill said. “I wouldn't believe it if it hadn't happened to me. The thing is, where shall we start to find this man? He must be somewhere in the British Isles. You know the ropes. You know who to go to to start such a search. The man must have a vast amount of money. You wouldn't hunt for him in the places you would look for the average dangerous character. Every possible landing place in Ireland and England must be checked to get trace of those dun-colored- biplanes.”
“We'll have to know everything before we release the facts,” Malbury said. “I have a friend, a pal. Lord Hereburn —he's the man to go to. We must start the ball rolling from the top. He is high up. All the machinery of the home office will begin to click it he gives the word. An ant couldn't get out of England then if they didn't want it to.”
“Where can we find him?” Bill asked.
“Easy does it, my boy,” Malbury said. “I'll have to locate him and talk to him alone first. He isn't the kind you can walk in on. You said you were going to the Hotel Cecil? You're sure you wouldn't like me to put you up at one of my clubs?”
“No,” Bill said. “I prefer to go to the Cecil until this thing is over. Then, I would like to spend a few days with you at Arunway. This,” he added bitterly, “is supposed to be a holiday for me.”
“Yes,” Malbury said. “We'll rest up out at the old pile of rocks when we get this thing straightened out. I'll drop you at the Cecil and start my hunt for Hereburn. I may reach him immediately, or it may be morning before I find him. You look as though you needed rest. You'd better get it now because there is nothing you can do. We'll have the jolly old ball rolling when you wake up.”
Malbury's chauffeur helped them into the lobby of the Cecil with the luggage they had brought with them.
“I'll ring you sometime tonight or the first thing in the morning,” Malbury said as he turned away.
“Eight,” Bill said. “I'll be anxious to hear from you.”
His eyes were two bright coals and his face was lined and haggard. Reaction had set in and he was tired as he could never remember being before.
They were assigned two rooms with a bath between them in a quiet spot on the third floor of the enormous hostelry. Bill picked up the telephone in his room and asked for a waiter with a menu.
“I suppose we've got to eat something,” he said to Sandy.
“Eat something?” Sandy said. “Say, if I don't get some food pretty quick something serious is going to happen. I'm famished. I haven't had anything to eat since we left Barnes Field.”
“Who ate all those chicken sandwiches you brought along—your automatic pilot?” Bill asked in disgust.
“I ate them,” Sandy said. “But there were only twelve of them.”
Bill ordered a light meal for himself and then turned the menu over to Sandy. He got a bath while Sandy was ordering because even the mention of food made him a little sick.
When the food was brought Bill couldn't help noticing the way the waiter's eyes roved over the room and their possessions. When the man brushed against him and let his hand flick across the two patch pockets in his dressing gown, he knew he was trying to find out if they were armed.
“The Saver of Souls knows how to handle his cutthroat business,” he said to himself. “He is probably going crazy because I stuck my nose in his little scheme.”
After they had finished eating Bill said to Sandy, “You hop in there and turn your light out and get some sleep, kid.” He followed Sandy into his room and saw that the fire escape that was outside his own room did not reach to Sandy's. There was a sheer drop of thirty feet to the roof of the next building.
“Good night, kid,” Bill said. “I'll let you know as soon as I hear from Malbury.”
“Okay, Bill,” Sandy said. “Gosh, I'm sleepy.”
VIII—THE QUIVERING KNIFE
WHEN Bill went back into his own room his nerves were jangling. He was tired to the point of exhaustion, yet he didn't want to risk falling asleep. He was almost certain that an attempt would be made to kill him before morning, and he realized he couldn't stay awake to defend himself. He thought of trying to get in touch with Malbury again and have him secretly get a couple of men from Scotland Yard to guard him while he slept. He discarded the idea as not being feasible. He finally decided that his nerves were jumpy and his imagination was running away with him.
But he didn't sleep in the soft, three-quarter bed that was in the room. Instead he rolled up a blanket and put it in the bed where he should have been. At the end of the blanket on the pillow he placed an overall bunched up to give the general outline of his head.
Then he lay down on the couch that was against a wall, determined to stay awake as long as he could. In
