"I'm afraid there'll be no spring-mattress for you to-night, Thompson,"
he said. "I'll ring in a few minutes," and Thompson drew a sigh of
relief as he turned towards the door, which a moment afterwards closed
behind him.

"We can't do it to-night," announced Sage with decision.

Colonel Walton shook his head.

"He must take the risk until the morning," continued Sage. "You'll be
here until it's all through?" he interrogated.

Colonel Walton nodded. When thoughtful he was more than usually
sparing of words.

"About the reward?" he interrogated, as Sage rose and moved towards the
door.

"We'll withdraw it in to-morrow evening's papers," was the response,
"if you agree."

Again Colonel Walton nodded, and Malcolm Sage went out, bent on
reminding Scotland Yard of his existence.

CHAPTER XVII

MALCOLM SAGE CASTS HIS NET

I

"I'm afraid there'll be trouble with the people at the Tower," remarked
Malcolm Sage, who, with the aid of his briar pipe, was doing his best
to reduce the visibility.

"Zero is noon," mused Colonel Walton.

Sage nodded.

"They'll begin to drift in about twelve-thirty," he continued, puffing
placidly at his cigar.

"Well, it's been interesting, and it'll give the Skipper a sort of joy
day with the War Cabinet," said Sage quietly. "To-morrow ought to be
rather a large breakfast-party," he added drily.

"He had the wind up rather badly at one time."

"Celt," was Sage's comment.

Colonel Walton nodded.

For some minutes the two smoked in silence.

"I hope they won't start any of that O.B.E. business," said Sage at
length.

"Sure to. It will be a triumph for the Skipper," continued Colonel
Walton.

"He deserves it," said Sage ungrudgingly. "He's always believed in us.
By the way, I told Hoyle to bring Finlay here after they had got
Naylor."

Colonel Walton continued to puff contentedly at his cigar.

Early that morning Malcolm Sage had given final instructions to the
various members of his staff. He and Colonel Walton had been working
all through the night in perfecting their plans. The demands made upon
Scotland Yard for men had at first evoked surprise, which later
developed into _sotto voce_ ridicule.

"What the devil's up with old Sage and Onions?" Inspector Crabbett had
muttered, as he cast his eyes down the list of plain-clothes and
uniformed officers required. "Who the devil's going to issue all these
warrants?"

Department Z., however, had its