A gleam of day was in the sky as Hamel, with Mrs. Fentolin by his side, passed along the path which led from the Tower to St. David's Hall. Lights were still burning from its windows; the outline of the building itself was faintly defined against the sky. Behind him, across the sea, was that one straight line of grey merging into silver. The rain had ceased and the wind had dropped. On either side of them stretched the brimming creeks.
"Can we get into the house without waking any one?" he asked.
"Quite easily," she assured him. "The front door is never barred."
She walked by his side, swiftly and with surprising vigour. In the still, grey light, her face was more ghastly than ever, but there was a new firmness about her mouth, a new decision in her tone.
They reached the Hall without further speech, and she led the way to a small door on the eastern side, through which they entered noiselessly and passed along a little passage out into the hall.
A couple of lights were still burning. The place seemed full of shadows.
"What are you going to do now?" she whispered.
"I want to ring up London on the telephone," he replied. "I know that there is a detective either in the neighbourhood or on his way here, but I shall tell my friend that he had better come down himself."
She nodded.
"I am going to release Esther," she said. "She is locked in her room. The telephone is in the study. I will come down there to you."
She passed silently up the broad staircase. Hamel groped his way across the hail into the library. He turned on the small electric reading-lamp and drew up a chair to the side of the telephone. Even as he lifted the receiver to his ear, he looked around him half apprehensively. It seemed as though every moment he would hear the click of Mr. Fentolin's chair.
He got the exchange at Norwich without difficulty, and a few minutes later a sleepy reply came from the number he had rung up in London.
It was Kinsley's servant who answered.
"I want to speak to Mr. Kinsley at once upon most important business," Hamel announced.
"Very sorry, sir," the man replled. "Mr. Kinsley left town last night for the country."
"Where has he gone?" Hamel demanded quickly. "You can tell me.
You know who I am; I am Mr. Hamel."
"Into Norfolk somewhere, sir. He went with several other gentlemen."
"Is that Bullen?" Hamel asked.
The man admitted the fact.
"Can you tell me if any of the people with whom Mr. Kinsley left London were connected with the police?" he inquired.
The man hesitated.
"I believe so, sir," he admitted. "The gentlemen started in a motor-car and were going to drive all night."
Hamel laid down the receiver. At any rate, he would not be left long with this responsibility upon him. He walked out into the hall.
The house was still wrapped in deep silence. Then, from somewhere above him, coming down the stairs, he heard the rustle of a woman's gown. He looked up, and saw Miss Price, fully dressed, coming slowly towards him. She held up her finger and led the way back into the library. She was dressed as neatly as ever, but there was a queer light in her eyes.
"I have seen Mrs. Seymour Fentolin," she said. "She tells me that you have left Mr. Fentolin and the others in the subterranean room of the Tower."
Hamel nodded.
"They have Dunster down there," he told her. "I followed them in; it seemed the best thing to do. I have a friend from London who is on his way down here now with some detective officers, to enquire into the matter of Dunster's disappearance."
"Are you going to leave them where they are until these people arrive?" she asked.
"I think so," he replied, after a moment's hesitation. "I don't seem to have had time to consider even what to do. The opportunity came, and I embraced it. There they are, and they won't dare to do any further harm to Dunster now. Mrs. Fentolin was down in my room, and I thought it best to bring her back first before I even parleyed with them again.
" You must be careful," she advised slowly. The man Dunster has been drugged, he has lost some of his will; he may have lost some of his mental balance. Mr. Fentolin is clever. He will find a dozen ways to wriggle out of any charge that can be brought against him. You know what he has really done?"
"I can guess."
"He has kept back a document signed by the twelve men in America who control the whole of Wall Street, who control practically the money markets of the world. That document is a warning to Germany that they will have no war against England. Owing to Mr. Fentolin, it has not been delivered, and the Conference is sitting now. War may be declared at any moment."
"But as a matter of common sense," Hamel asked, "why does Mr.
Fentolin desire war?"
