his head. 

 “Not good enough,” he replied, “it’s back to the sandbags for mine. But where are you off to?” 

 “Got a bit of leave; the Intelligence folk seem to be through with me at last, so they’ve given me six weeks!” 

 “Going to the country” asked Desmond. 

 Strangwise nodded. 

 “Yep,” he said, “down to Essex to see if I can get a few duck or snipe on the fens. I wish you were coming with me!” 

 “So do I, old man,” echoed Desmond heartily. Then he added in a serious voice: 

 “By the way, I haven’t seen you since last night. What a shocking affair this is about old Mackwayte, isn’t it? Are there any developments, do you know?” 

 Strangwise very deliberately fished a cigarette out of his case which was lying open on the table and lit it before replying. 

 “A very dark affair,” he said, blowing out a cloud of smoke and flicking the match into the grate. “You are discreet, I know, Okewood. The Intelligence people had me up this morning... to take my evidence...” 

 Strangwise’s surmise about Desmond’s discretion was perfectly correct. With Desmond Okewood discretion was second nature, and therefore he answered with feigned surprise: “Your evidence about what? About our meeting the Mackwaytes last night?” 

 After he had spoken he realized he had blundered. Surely, after all, the Chief would have told Strangwise about their investigations at Seven Kings. Still... 

 “No,” replied Strangwise, “but about Nur-el-Din!” 

 The Chief had kept his own counsel about their morning’s work. Desmond was glad now that he had dissimulated. 

 “You see, I know her pretty well,” Strangwise continued, “between ourselves, I got rather struck on the lady when she was touring in Canada some years ago, and in fact I spent so much more money than I could afford on her that I had to discontinue the acquaintance. Then I met her here when I got away from Germany a month ago; she was lonely, so I took her about a bit. Okewood, I’m afraid I was rather indiscreet.” 

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