John Dene Of Toronto Part 48

"A wound stripe," interrupted Sage.

Thompson grinned, as he looked down at his right arm resting in a sling.

"It was meant for Mr. Dene, sir," he said. "I just got there in time.

It was that ferret-eyed little blighter," he added without the slightest suggestion of animosity. Thompson was a sportsman, taking and giving hard knocks with philosophic good-humour.

"Plucky little devil," murmured Malcolm Sage. "He bit and scratched with the utmost impartiality."

Malcolm Sage and Thompson were seated in Colonel Walton's room discussing the events of the morning.

"We were only just in time," said Sage. "Finlay was right."

Colonel Walton nodded.

"It was dope, sir." Thompson looked from Colonel Walton to Malcolm Sage. "Sir Bryllith said he'll be months in a home."

"Yes," said Sage. "He won't be fit to answer questions for a long time. Been doped all the time, nearly three months."

"If there's nothing more----" began Thompson.

"No, Thompson, go and get a sleep," said Colonel Walton. "Look after that arm, and take things easy for a few days."

"Thank you, sir," said Thompson; "but I'm afraid I've forgotten the way," and with a grin he went out.

"You've wirelessed?" asked Colonel Walton.

"The whole story. They're bound to pick it up at Auchinlech."

"And the Skipper?"

"Oh! just what we actually know, I should say," responded Sage, and Colonel Walton nodded his agreement.

"They're puzzled over those announcements withdrawing the reward," said Sage a few minutes later. "We ought to be hearing from the Skipper soon."

"He's already been through while you were changing. I'm going round at five. You're coming too," added Colonel Walton, as he lighted a fresh cigar. "What about Finlay?"

"Gone home to see his wife," said Sage. "He's as domesticated as a Persian kitten," he added with all the superiority of a confirmed bachelor.

In another room Gladys Norman was fussing over a wounded hero.

"Poor 'ickle Tommikins." she crooned, as she sat on the arm of his chair and rumpled the hair of Special Service Officer Thompson. "Did 'ums hurt 'ums poor 'ickle arm. Brave boy!" and then she bent down and kissed him lightly on the cheek, whereat Thompson blushed crimson.

"Department Z. makes its traditions as it goes along," Malcolm Sage had once said. "It's more natural."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE RETURN OF JOHN DENE

"It's very strange," murmured Sir Lyster Grayne, as he raised his eyes from an official-looking doc.u.ment. "What are the official figures for the last six weeks, Heyworth?" he enquired.

"Seven certainties and two doubtful," was the reply.

"About normal, then?"

Admiral Heyworth nodded.

"Then why the devil should the Hun get the wind up?" demanded Sir Bridgman, a look of puzzlement taking the place of the usual smile in his eyes. "What does the I.D. say?"

"That during the last four weeks thirty-seven U-boats have failed to return to their bases as they should have done," replied Admiral Heyworth, referring to a buff-coloured paper before him.

"That leaves twenty-eight in the air," said Sir Bridgman, more to himself than to the others.

Sir Lyster nodded thoughtfully.

"No wonder they're getting the wind up," mused Sir Bridgman.

"The I.D. says that Kiel and Wilhelmshaven are in a state of panic,"

said Admiral Heyworth.

"It's d.a.m.ned funny," remarked Sir Bridgman thoughtfully. "Structural defects won't explain it?" He looked interrogatingly across at Admiral Heyworth, who shook his head in negation.

"It might of course be w.a.n.gle," murmured Sir Bridgman.

Sir Lyster shook his head decidedly.

"The I.D. says no," he remarked. "They're doing everything they can to keep it dark."

"Well, it's d.a.m.ned funny," repeated Sir Bridgman. "What does L. J.

say?"

"He's as puzzled as the rest of us," said Sir Lyster in response.

"He's making enquiries through Department Z." There was the merest suggestion of patronage in Sir Lyster's voice at the mention of Department Z.

Sir Bridgman lit a cigarette, then after a short silence Sir Lyster said tentatively:

"I suppose it isn't the Americans?"

"Impossible," said Sir Bridgman. "You can't base s.h.i.+ps on ether, and we were bound to know, besides frankness is their strong point. They are almost aggressively open," he added.

"I----" began Sir Lyster, then paused.

"It's d.a.m.ned funny," murmured Sir Bridgman for the third time. "Well, I must buzz off," he added, rising. "I shall see you at L.J.'s this afternoon."

"It's a conference, I think," said Sir Lyster. "Walton is to tell us what has been discovered." Again there was the note of patronage in his voice.

"Well," said Sir Bridgman, "I'll try and prevent it spoiling my lunch,"