the deal.
Besides, how big is the risk? About one o'clock in the morning, when
you can't sleep, it will be the size of Mount Everest, but if you run
out to meet it, it will be a hillock you can jump over. The grizzly
looks very fierce when you're taking your ticket for the Rockies and
wondering if you'll come back, but he's just an ordinary bear when
you've got the sight of your rifle on him. I won't think about risks
till I'm up to my neck in them and don't see the road out.'

I scribbled my address on a piece of paper and handed it to the stout
philosopher. 'Come to dinner tonight at eight,' I said.

'I thank you, Major. A little fish, please, plain-boiled, and some hot
milk. You will forgive me if I borrow your couch after the meal and
spend the evening on my back. That is the advice of my noo doctor.'

I got a taxi and drove to my club. On the way I opened the envelope
Sir Walter had given me. It contained a number of jottings, the
dossier of Mr Blenkiron. He had done wonders for the Allies in the
States. He had nosed out the Dumba plot, and had been instrumental in
getting the portfolio of Dr Albert. Von Papen's spies had tried to
murder him, after he had defeated an attempt to blow up one of the big
gun factories. Sir Walter had written at the end: 'The best man we
ever had. Better than Scudder. He would go through hell with a box of
bismuth tablets and a pack of Patience cards.'

I went into the little back smoking-room, borrowed an atlas from the
library, poked up the fire, and sat down to think. Mr Blenkiron had
given me the fillip I needed. My mind was beginning to work now, and
was running wide over the whole business. Not that I hoped to find
anything by my cogitations. It wasn't thinking in an arm-chair that
would solve the mystery. But I was getting a sort of grip on a plan of
operations. And to my relief I had stopped thinking about the risks.
Blenkiron had shamed me out of that. If a sedentary dyspeptic could
show that kind of nerve, I wasn't going to be behind him.

I went back to my flat about five o'clock. My man Paddock had gone to
the wars long ago, so I had shifted to one of the new blocks in Park
Lane where they provide food and service. I kept the place on to have
a home to go to when I got leave. It's a miserable business holidaying
in an hotel.

Sandy was devouring tea-cakes with the serious resolution of a
convalescent.

'Well, Dick, what's the news? Is it a b