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  ‘Some might say so, in a manner of speaking. We’re acquainted, anyhow.’

  Regina appeared satisfied with that, and went on: ‘I telephoned your flat, but there was no answer, so I wrote to you, hoping you’d get the letter in time. When I called at the flat the caretaker told me where you were, and said he’d re-addressed the letter. I wrote again, that’s the letter you have now, and came down here. But—oh, I suppose I was dreaming, but I seemed to be followed and watched everywhere. It must have been imagination.’

  ‘Must?’ asked Mike. He was intrigued, and for the first time felt an easing of the weight of anxiety about Mark. ‘I wouldn’t say so, Gina. If you were followed for that diary—have you read it anywhere but at Aunt Bess’s?’

  Regina said: ‘I looked at it in the train. And, Mike——’

  ‘Yes?’ he said as she paused.

  ‘Someone stole my handbag. I had the diary in my pocket, and most of my money in a case, so it didn’t matter, but it made me even more sure that I was followed.’

  ‘Ye-es,’ said Mike slowly. ‘And that someone’s after the diary. I wonder why?’ He stretched forward and took it from her fingers, remembering that she had advised Mark to look in the entries for June. Before he read a line, the telephone rang.

  Regina answered it.

  ‘Hold on a moment.’ She looked at Mike. ‘It’s a man named Loftus—do you want to speak to him?’

  ‘Loftus!’ exclaimed Mike. ‘Do I want——’ he jumped up, then winced again and stopped speaking abruptly. His eyes were brighter, and there was an eager expression on his face. ‘Yes, I do,’ he said. ‘If I’m a policeman, Loftus is my Assistant Commissioner.’ He limped to the telephone, and stood with his weight on his sound leg, and said: ‘Mike here, Bill, and I’ve got something for you before you start.’

  ‘Forget it,’ said Loftus heartily. ‘I’ve a job for the two of you, and it’s urgent. Pack up and say goodbye to the country, and come up here right away, will you?’

  3

  Regina Meets Others

  There was a short pause, while Regina regarded Mike’s set, strained face, and wondered what had been said to him. Mike remained silent until Loftus spoke again in a steadier voice.

  ‘What’s the trouble, Mike?’

  Mike drew a deep breath.

  ‘More than odds and ends,’ he said. ‘We’ve had bother, and Mark’s taken a bullet in his chest. I don’t know whether it’s one of our shows or not.’

  ‘That’s bad,’ said Loftus, his voice no longer hearty, but quiet and sincere. ‘How is he?’

  ‘I’ll know in an hour, I hope.’

  ‘Ring me back when there’s word,’ said Loftus. ‘I’ll get someone else busy on the job I had in mind. Are you on your own?’

  ‘I’m with a cousin,’ said Mike. ‘A long-lost cousin. I’m all right, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘That’s what I meant,’ Loftus assured him. ‘All right, Mike. Ring me as soon as you can.’

  Mike limped to his chair and lowered himself cautiously, then lit a cigarette.

  ‘Now about that diary,’ he said.

  Regina sat on the arm of his chair. He read the four entries in the year-old diary quickly at first, with Regina following the words over his shoulder. The entries were brief and concise, written in a small, even hand not unlike that on the envelope he had picked up from the table in the room.

  I have not reported an accident which happened this afternoon, but think that I should. At all events, I must watch carefully.

  Q. laughed at my fancies this afternoon. I wish I disliked the man less. He pooh-poohs my fears, and tells me that I need a holiday. That, at least, is right.

  Only four days to go, thank heavens. The strain is really worrying me. I don’t think Alice has any idea of what is troubling me. I had a sharp exchange of words with Q. again today. It is quite obvious that I shall have to ask for a transfer. I cannot work with the man any longer.

  I have never looked forward to a holiday so much as I am doing this one. Q. asked me to postpone it for a few days, but I refused point-blank. I wish that I could believe all the trouble is due to my imagination, all the same. What conceivable reason could anyone have in killing me?

  Mike finished reading, but went through each entry again before putting the diary aside and glancing into Regina’s eyes. She was frowning as she said: ‘He was overworked, Mike. Two doctors told him that he would break down unless he got away for a few weeks.’ She paused, and when Mike did not answer, added abruptly: ‘Was he imagining trouble because he had overworked?’

  ‘If you go on like this you’ll be a candidate for collapse, too,’ said Mike quietly. ‘If his brain was working on a note of hysteria, he had the coolest and calmest way of making a record of it that I can imagine. Is there anything else in the diary?’

  ‘Nothing that has anything to do with this.’ said Regina. ‘The early part is just a list of appointments that he kept, and notes of what arrangements he made. It isn’t until the last few pages that he makes any comments like those you’ve read. You’ll want to keep the diary, I suppose?’

  ‘Ye-es.’ Mike rubbed his nose. ‘I wonder if the visitor tonight wanted to get it? Where are the other things that were in that box?’

  ‘Still in it. I just tidied it up and locked it again.’

  ‘Good. The first job is to make sure that nothing can be taken from it until we’ve had another look,’ said Mike briskly. ‘The second is to send the diary to Loftus and Craigie—you’ll meet them soon—and have them check it thoroughly. The third is to make inquiries about “Q”.’ He looked at her inquiringly.

  ‘ “Q” stands for Quayle,’ she told him.

  ‘And Quayle was his immediate chief, I take it?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ said Regina. ‘They had the same authority in the office. Dad handled the personnel, Quayle looked after details and general correspondence. I don’t know much about it. It was all hush-hush, and Dad would never talk about his work, even before the war.’

  ‘Quayle—Quayle—I’ve heard the name somewhere. He——’ Mike paused abruptly, and then snapped his fingers. ‘Sir Edmund Quayle, of course! He’s just been sued for libel by one of his assistants. Is that the man?’

  ‘That’s the man,’ said Regina. ‘I didn’t know him well, but he was one of those cold people. Fishy, smooth—you know what I mean.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mike. ‘I’ll have to meet him some day.’ He stubbed out his cigarette, and was staring at her when the telephone rang again. He started, but Regina told him to keep still while she went to take the message. He waited in a ferment of anxiety until she said:

  ‘I’m speaking for him ... yes ... oh, thank God! When ... yes, I’ll tell him, thank you.’ She turned to face Mike, her eyes shining. ‘It’s successful, and he’ll be all right!’

  ‘Thank God for that,’ echoed Mike fervently. ‘Gina, we’re free to get cracking. London for us, while there’s time and daylight left. We’ll stay at the Cumberworth for the night, and get down to Somerset in the morning. Travel light, and don’t be surprised at our speed,’ he added, ten times more lighthearted than he had been before the telephone call.

  His excitement, born of relief, dimmed somewhat in the next two hours. By that time they were approaching Whitehall, and many things had happened.

  First, he had telephoned Loftus to make the appointment and report. Then he had received a visit from Inspector Lee of Guildford, who apologised because he had been detained. Lee was an oldish man, who told Mike that he had been instructed to act at all times on any suggestions from the Errols. (That was common with all the Department Z agents, ensuring quick police cooperation in emergency.) Lee regretted that there was no trace of the man whose description Regina had telephoned, and expressed the hope that Mr. Errol would make an official report, which he could present to his Chief Constable, on the matter of the attack.

  Mike had done so, briefly.

  By then, Regina had been ready. Soon af
terwards they had called at her Guildford hotel and collected her one case, and started for London. Driving a Lagonda, Mike had travelled at considerable speed, not affected by his sprained ankle, and neither of them had talked a great deal.

  Mike turned the car into Brook Street.

  He had arranged to see Loftus and Craigie there, and to do the necessary talking, instead of going to the Department’s office in Whitehall. For his own part he was quite sure of Regina, but Craigie and Loftus would wonder whether she was all she pretended to be—he could almost see them wondering—and consequently Loftus had preferred not to allow a stranger into the office. On such simple precautions rested much of the success of the Department, and that success was considerable.

  Mike pulled into the kerb, and Regina said quietly: ‘What kind of man am I going to meet, Mike?’

  ‘We-ell,’ Mike said slowly, ‘it’s difficult to put Bill Loftus into a few words. You’ll like him. A big fellow, who lost a leg in a shindy a year or so ago. He’s second-in-command to Gordon Craigie, who’ll probably be here as well. You won’t take to Gordon on sight. Thin, rather dry, distant kind of cove until you get to know him. He’ll probably give you the impression that he doesn’t believe half of what you’re saying.’

  • • • • •

  During the telling both Loftus and Craigie listened without interrupting. Regina noticed nothing, but Mike caught the impression that between them there was a constraint which he found hard to understand. He finished the narrative and then handed the diary over, saying:

  ‘So it looks to me as if the quicker we have that box looked after, the better.’

  ‘H’m,’ said Loftus, and glanced down at the diary. ‘This is a queer turn-up. Shall I tell them?’ He looked at Craigie, and received a nod. For a moment he hesitated, as if deliberately increasing the tension, and then said slowly: ‘Up to a point, we can clear the thing up.’

  ‘You know about it?’ gasped Regina.

  ‘We didn’t know about you or your father,’ Loftus said quietly. ‘We did know that Quayle needed watching, and we’ve had an eye on him for some time.’

  He plunged into a story, circumstantial to some degree but factual in other ways. He evaded any direct statement of the reason for his, and the Department’s, interest, creating the impression that it was a branch of Scotland Yard without emphasising it in so many words.

  Sir Edmund Quayle, of S.1 Branch of the Ministry of Economic Warfare, had been on the suspect list for some time; Loftus allowed it to be gathered that he was suspected of espionage, but did not say so. Quayle had been watched by a member of his staff actually employed by Department Z. No direct evidence against him had been discovered, but it had become clear that he was a frightened man.

  ‘One of the peculiar things we discovered,’ said Loftus, ‘was that confidential members of his staff were frequently applying for transfers. Quayle’s temper was fiery, and he was always quarrelling. Looking closer into it, we found that the men who wanted a transfer from his Department were those who had been with him six or seven months, and that all newcomers—his staff, of course, was constantly changing—liked him.’

  Regina interrupted.

  ‘I remember my father saying that he rather liked the man, just after he started working with him.’

  ‘H’m,’ commented Loftus. ‘More evidence of the peculiar temperament of Sir Edmund Quayle. Of course, it could be that he grows tired of familiar faces and gets rid of them, fixing it by driving them into asking for a remove.’

  Regina hesitated, and then said:

  ‘I was prejudiced against Quayle because I knew he’d worried Father a great deal before the accident, but I didn’t go so far as to think he might be a spy.’

  ‘Let’s analyse the position as far as it goes. You suspect Quayle or a Mr. X. We suspect Quayle. Your father was a victim of the gentleman’s temperament; so were other people whom we have met. One of his assistants recently brought a case for libel and slander against him, but lost it. He dislikes Quayle, too. So the result is, three against Quayle.’

  Craigie leaned forward and took a meerschaum pipe from the mantelpiece near him.

  The room of Loftus’s flat, where they were sitting, was a large one, comfortably furnished. Regina found herself wondering whether Loftus was married. Then she set that question aside as she watched Craigie filling the large bowl of his pipe. Although Loftus went on talking, she eyed Craigie with a new, sharper interest, remembering that she had heard of him before.

  She had heard, also, of Department Z.

  She experienced a quick flurry of excitement. Loftus and Craigie, of course, were in Department Z. Sometimes the Press published incredible stories of the activities of the Department, often the more popular papers gave lurid hints of the under-cover work operated by it. Hitherto she had not associated Mike and Mark Errol with Department Z, but now she knew what Aunt Bess had meant when she had talked of the Errols being ‘something to do with the police’.

  ‘When we’ve finished the analysis,’ Loftus went on quickly, ‘we come to the conclusion that Quayle wants plenty of attention. Now I can tell you that the reason he hasn’t been removed from his position at the Ministry is because we want to find out his contacts, if any.’

  ‘Was this the job you wanted Mark and me for?’ demanded Mike suddenly.

  ‘No,’ said Loftus. ‘That was a spot of bother in France. Bruce and Wally have taken it on. Bruce was toying with the idea of having a shot at Quayle, but he switched over without any trouble, and as you’ve found what we might call a personal interest, you’re the man for the Quayle job.’

  ‘I suppose I daren’t ask whether I can help?’ asked Regina.

  Craigie lit his pipe, and glanced from her to Mike, saying:

  ‘The boot’s on the other foot, Miss Brent. Dare we ask you to help us? Are you prepared to help us in every way you can?’

  4

  Regina Is Amazed

  There was only a short pause before Regina answered.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good, that’s settled,’ said Craigie. ‘We want you to get in touch with a Martin Ainsworth, Miss Brent. Ainsworth,’ he went on so quickly that it was obvious that he had anticipated Regina’s answer, ‘is a man of about your age, perhaps a little older. He has been with the Ministry of Economic Warfare for eighteen months, and with Quayle for five. A violent quarrel with Quayle led to his resignation from the Ministry, but he was persuaded to return. However, he talked too freely and wrote violent letters about Quayle, who answered in kind, hence the libel case, and Quayle’s counter-charges, which of course were substantiated. In view of the court’s decision, Ainsworth is being asked to resign this time, and I think he’s actually left the Ministry today.’

  ‘I see,’ said Regina slowly.

  ‘Y’know, I’m getting puzzled about Quayle,’ declared Mike. ‘What’s the sense in it? Everyone suspects him, and he’s an obvious trouble-maker. Even if he weren’t suspected, why should he be kept on?’

  ‘Because he’s good at his job,’ said Craigie quietly.

  ‘Oh, well,’ said Mike amenably, ‘I suppose there’s some sense in it. What did Ainsworth do?’

  ‘His job was to co-ordinate reports from occupied countries on the effect of the blockade,’ said Craigie. ‘That is Quayle’s job, also. There are a lot of reports which get into the country unofficially, and they sift the genuine reports from the fakes or the exaggerations. Because of that, Quayle has a great number of contacts with people in occupied Europe, and his opportunities for using the contacts against us, instead of for us, are obvious. Ainsworth went as far as to accuse Quayle of dealing with enemy agents, but that part of the case was heard in camera.’

  ‘And what do you want me to do?’ asked Regina quietly.

  ‘That’s easy,’ said Craigie. ‘Ainsworth has few friends, and we haven’t found it easy to get confidential reports on him. It’s possible that he has evidence which he hasn’t disclosed,
or evidence which he knew would not stand up in court but would be good enough for us to act on. In brief, we want to find out why he made his accusations against Quayle. It could have been spite, but we want to make sure.’

  ‘How shall I meet him?’ asked Regina practically.

  ‘That will be arranged,’ Craigie assured her.

  Little else was said of the project during the next hour, although it remained clear that Mike was troubled. Other things, however, amazed Regina.

  In the space of fifteen minutes two Department Z agents received instructions by telephone to visit Lady Beddiloe, at her home near Bath, to make sure that no one broke in; the purpose being to safeguard the papers in James Brent’s box. Two others were instructed to come to the flat, and thereafter to follow Regina until further notice. A report was received, also by telephone, from the agent who was watching Martin Ainsworth; the report was brief, for Ainsworth remained in his Chelsea flat—from which, it was said, he had not moved since the verdict had been returned against him. Craigie believed that the £1,000 damages, and costs, with which Ainsworth was faced, were more than the man could afford.

  The thoroughness of the Department’s arrangements so astonished Regina that she talked of little else while she and Mike walked from Brook Street to the Cumberworth, a large hotel off Piccadilly. Their rooms had been booked, and Regina’s luggage already installed. Mike had collected what he needed for a night from his Brook Street flat, and was staying at the hotel simply because he preferred Regina not to be there alone.

  • • • • •

  Mr. Martin Ainsworth closed a book irritably, and turned over in bed.

  From his window the tops of the funnels of a river steamer or a small cargo boat were visible, giving off dark smoke. A tug was hooting on the river, while the clamour of traffic from the Embankment hummed through the room.