was finally
broken by Sage.

"They'll try to get hold of John Dene, unless he's very careful, and
hold him to ransom, the price being the plans."

"Incidentally, Sage, where did you get all this from?" enquired Walton.

Sage gazed at his chief through his gold-rimmed spectacles. "About
three hundred yards west of the Temple Station on the Underground."

Colonel Walton glanced across at his subordinate; but refrained from
asking further questions. "Have you warned Dene?" he enquired instead.

"No use," replied Sage with conviction. "Might as well warn a fly."

Colonel Walton nodded understandingly. "Still," he remarked, "I think
he ought to be told."

"Why not have a try yourself?" Sage looked up swiftly from the
inevitable contemplation of his finger-nails.

For fully a minute Colonel Walton sat revolving the proposal in his
mind. "I think I will," he said later.

"He'll treat you like a superannuated policeman," was the grim retort.

"The Skipper wants to see us at eleven," said Colonel Walton, looking
at his watch and rising. The "Skipper" was the name by which Mr.
Llewellyn John was known at Department Z. Names were rarely referred
to, and very few documents were ever exchanged. Colonel Walton picked
up his hat from a bookcase and, followed by Sage, who extracted a cap
from his pocket, left the room and Department Z. and walked across to
Downing Street.

As Colonel Walton and Malcolm Sage were shown into Mr. Llewellyn John's
room, the Prime Minister gave instructions that he was not to be
disturbed for a quarter of an hour.

"Was the John Dene Report what you wanted, sir?" enquired Colonel
Walton, as he took the seat Mr. Llewellyn John indicated.

"Excellent," cried Mr. Llewellyn John; then with a smile he added, "I
was able to tell Sir Lyster quite a lot of things this morning. The
Admiralty report was not ready until late last night. It was not
nearly so instructive."

The main facts of John Dene's career had not been difficult to obtain.
His father had emigrated to Canada in the early eighties; but,
possessing only the qualifications of a clerk, he had achieved neither
fame nor fortune. He had died when John Dene was eight years old, and
his wife had followed him within eighteen months. After a varied
career John Dene had drifted to the States, where as a youth he had
entered a large engineering firm, and was instantly singled out as an
inventor in embryo.

Several fortunate specula