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Updated: May 15, 2025
He resigned a few months ago simply because he wants a job with you fellows." "I don't quite understand," Nigel began. "Let me explain," Jesson begged. "I spent the last three years poking about Europe, and so far as the United States is concerned, there's nothing doing.
Like the hunter he was, Dick Staunton had moved without a sound, and now stood directly between Jesson and the door. "But don't go yet. I want to tell you a story that may amuse you. Have some tea." "Er won't it keep till some other time, Major? I'm rather anxious to see about my kit." "Let the kit keep. Sit down and have some tea." "What the devil has come over you, Dickie?"
I should like, if you have no objection, to start for Kroten this week." "Good heavens! Why?" Nigel exclaimed. "I can scarcely answer that question," Jesson said. "I am like a man with a puzzle board and a heap of loose pieces. Kroten is one of those pieces, but I haven't commenced the fitting-in process yet. Here," he said, "is as much as I can tell you about it.
And all he noticed about Jesson was that his left knee twitched ceaselessly. . . . He ran over in his mind the day's work. He had met him at about eleven that morning, wandering along the support line with an officer in the Loamshires whom he knew well, who had hailed him and introduced Jesson. "A recruit a new recruit," he had said, "for your atrocious trade.
"In the first place," Jesson explained, "the city itself stands at the arm of the river, in a sort of cul-de-sac, with absolutely untraversable mountains on three sides of it. All the roads have to come around the plain and enter from eastwards. There is only one line of railway, so that all the approaches into the city are easily guarded."
Now pimple-faced Charlie was his own Major, who habitually did write returns in triplicate; wherefore, after a few remarks of a casual nature in which he elicited the fact that Jesson was a mining engineer and had suddenly been ordered while waiting at the base to join the 940th Tunnelling Company, he took him in tow and showed him round the mine galleries.
"You had better read both." Maggie opened out the former: MY DEAR DORMINSTER, I am afraid there is rather bad news about Jesson. One of our regular line of airships, running from San Francisco to Vladivostok, has picked up a wireless which must have come from somewhere in the South of China. They kept it for a few days, worse luck, thinking it was only nonsense, as it was in code.
"We shall have to rely very largely upon luck," Jesson declared. "There are three places, in any of which we might discover what we want to know. One is Kroten, another is Paris, provided that Prince Shan really goes there, and the third London." "London?" Maggie repeated. "There are two people in London," Jesson declared, "who know everything we are seeking to discover.
Are you with me so far?" "The evidence seems a trifle slight," remarked Jesson. "Quite true; the evidence is very slight. But then, it often is. Everything up to date turns on the question of the badge. Let me reconstruct a possible only possible, mark you story, based on the supposition that my badge theory is correct.
Then apparently you changed your mind, crossed it out, and substituted Douglas Jesson, which we took to be a nom-de-plume, especially as you gave us for your address initials to a post-office." "Did any one else see it?" "Not unless Drexley did. He has never spoken to me about it." Douglas drank more wine. He was unused to it, and the colour mounted to his pale cheeks.
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