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They were enclosed in two envelopes, one large, the other small, both without any superscription. The large envelope enclosed Mr. Bellward's dossier which consisted of a fairly detailed account of his private life, movements, habits and friends, and an account of his arrest. The small envelope contained Desmond's eagerly expected orders. Desmond examined the papers in the large envelope first.
Desmond had little respect for Mr. Bellward's property so he went over to the tool drawer and selected a stout chisel with which to burst the lock of the cupboard. But the cupboard was of oak, very solidly built, and he tried in vain to get a purchase for his implement. He leant his left hand against the edge of the cupboard whilst with his right he jabbed valiantly with the chisel.
Bellward's face was so close that Desmond felt his warm breath on his cheek whilst those burning eyes seemed to stab through his closed eyelids and steadily, stealthily, draw his gaze. Resolutely Desmond held his head, averted.
"Old man Bellward's motor-bike that he goes to the station on," Desmond noted mentally. "But what's in the big cupboard, I wonder? Tools, I expect!" Then he caught sight of a deep drawer in the table. It was half-open and he saw that it contained various tools and spare parts, neatly arranged, each one in its appointed place. He went over to the cupboard and tried it. It was locked.
Wearily Desmond pulled a big armchair up to the blaze and sat down. He told himself that he must devote every minute of his spare time to going over in his mind the particulars he had memorized of Mr. Bellward's habits and acquaintanceships. He took the list of Bellward's friends from his pocket-book. But this afternoon he found it difficult to concentrate his attention.
He slammed the front door of the house in my face when I went to ask him for a contribution to our Cottage Hospital. It is not my habit to repeat idle gossip, but they do say he is a heavy drinker." There was a lot more of this sort of thing, and Desmond turned from it with a smile to take up the account of Bellward's arrest.
Desmond thrust his chin out and shook himself together. He would put the feminine side of Nur-el-Din out of his head. He must think of her henceforth only as a member of the band that was spotting targets for those sneaking, callous brutes of U-boat commanders. He went back to the study of the list of Mr. Bellward's friends. But he found it impossible to focus his mind upon it.
He had long since memorized and destroyed the list of Mr. Bellward's friends. Every morning he spent at least an hour before the mirror in his bedroom working up the role. With every day he felt more confident of himself; with every day he grew more anxious to go to London, and, taking the bull by the horns, boldly visit one of Mr. Bellward's acquaintances and test the effect of his disguise.
They may if they like and I don't propose to disillusion them. You understand, Bellward?" His voice was commanding and he bent his brows at Desmond, who hastened to protest that his discretion in the matter would be absolute. When they had had their coffee and Mortimer was contentedly puffing one of Bellward's excellent double Coronas, Desmond rose from the table.
One afternoon it was the fifth day after Desmond's arrival at Bellward's Mr. Crook announced that this was to be his last visit. "I go abroad to-night, Mr. Urgent, you might call it, and really, sir, you've made so much progress that I think I can safely leave you. And I was to say that you will be able to go out very soon now." "Good!" exclaimed Desmond, rubbing his hands together.
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