IRENE SAID LITTLE on their way to the Embassy, and found that her companion had become equally silent. She preferred that her father should disclose the substitution for which he was responsible and for which, as the moment for explanation came, she felt that there had been no adequate cause, and therefore no tolerable excuse. On his side, Kindell, though puzzled to guess what could have occurred, was unwilling to show his ignorance until it had become less. He was anxious not to talk, but to hear.

"If you don't mind waiting till tea-time - I can make it a quarter to four if you like - Father will join us. But you don't know how angry he'll be if we disturb him now. He'll say there was no occasion at all."

"I don't think he'll say that. But I'll go up to him myself if you like, and you needn't come into it."

"I don't think that would be the best way. If you'll only say what the hurry is - - "

"If I understood correctly you said that you had undertaken to deliver something for me, and that your father had prevented it being done."

"Yes That's what he did. He said he'd explain to you himself."

"Well, I'm here to hear it."

"But you'll only make him angry if you won't wait."

"I'll risk that."

"Well, I'll do what I can."

Irene went to her father's study, and found him dozing over a book, much as she had foreseen, but he rose at once when he heard who was there, showing as much alacrity for the interview as Kindell could have desired.

"How much have you told him?" he asked.

"Nothing. I said you'd explain everything. He seems rather cross."

"And frightened?"

"No. Not a bit."

"Well, perhaps I've got to do some apologizing. But I don't think that's likely. I wish I did."

"Shall I ask him to come up?"

"Yes, of course."

"And you'll let me stay?"

"Yes. You'd better know what the truth is. There's nothing secret with us. Fetch him in, and tell Williams to bring that case."

The ambassador greeted his young kinsman with more cordiality than he had intended to show. He was not easily reduced to nervousness, but he was a shrewd judge of the demeanour of others, and he was conscious that Kindell's attitude was not that of one whose criminality is likely to be exposed. Still he knew what he had been told, and had not been free to repeat and its inferences were clear.

Naturally, Irene had not understood, as he had been unable to tell her. But she soon would.

"I'm glad," he said, "to see that you've got out of the hands of those French police; but it was about this valise I wanted to see you. . . . Can you tell me why it was to be delivered to Mrs. Collinson, instead of to your own rooms?"

Kindell had intended to conceal his ignorance until he had learnt enough to judge of the position with which he would have to deal, but this question was beyond the possibility of such a reply as would not imply all that he was reluctant to say. He answered simply, "No."

Mr. Thurlow felt that he was rebuffed in a manner which would be improbable had there been any natural and innocent explanation to give. It led him to a more abrupt challenge than he would otherwise have made.

"Do you mind opening it here, so that I may see its contents?"

"Why should I do that?"

"Because, in my official position, I cannot take the risk of being made the medium of anything which, for all I know, may be contrary to your country's laws."

Kindell restrained an inclination to retort that it was a scruple which came late. He asked, "Would you mind telling me how this came into your hands?"

"You mean that you thought Irene would bring it without my knowledge?"

"No. Nothing of the kind. I am genuinely curious to know how it was brought either to you or her."

"Gustav brought it. Surely you should know that."

"I don't even know who Gustav is."

"Possibly you may not have heard or recall his name. He was the waiter by whom you sent it."

"Was he a sandy-haired man, with particularly colourless eyes, and a pointed chin?"

"It sounds like an accurate description. But what I asked was whether you would open the case."

"I could not do that without bursting it. I have no key, and it has the appearance of being strongly locked."

"You talk as though it were not yours. Would you be willing for it to be opened by the police?"

"It is what I was about to propose. My only hesitation is consideration for you."

"Why for me?"

"Because I think you have allowed yourself to be used as a medium for illegal smuggling, and I cannot tell how much would become public, or what effect it would have."

"Am I to understand that you threaten me unless I let you have it unopened? If so, you are wasting breath. I will call the police at once."

"Will you believe me if I tell you that I am working with them?"

"So I have understood. But it is possible that you may still have connections of which they are not fully informed."

"If you will tell me how this valise came into your hands, and why you have retained it, I will be equally frank with you, and you shall then be the one to decide whether you will call in the police or hand it over to me."

"You ask me seriously to believe that it was not sent by you?"

"It is the truth, and it will save time if you do. And time may be of more importance than I can explain briefly. That is why I insisted on disturbing you as I did."

"It was brought by the waiter, Gustav, with what purported to be a message to Irene from you, asking that it should be delivered to an address in London, which we have ascertained to be that of a Mrs. Collinson."

"And you decided not to deliver it?"

Irene interposed for the first time: "That was my fault, not Father's. I drove up to the door, and that Blinkwell woman was just coming out, so I drove away."

"Did she see you?"

"Oh, yes. She had a good look."

"Why should that make you suspicious?"

Irene looked confused at this question. "It wasn't exactly suspicion. I just felt that there was something wrong."

Kindell looked an appreciation which she had not expected, and certainly did not deserve. "You were right there. But we've got to act quickly now. . . . What I can't understand is that there s no address - no label on it. Did you have the address in writing? There might be a great help in that."

"There was a written label, but I took it off, so that it should appear to be part of our own luggage."

"Yes. But you kept it? You might let me see it now."Irene looked at her father, and he at her. Neither of them was as sure now as they had been before of the wisdom or justification of what had been done. Kindell noticed that he was not being held to his offer to give explanations to equal theirs.

Mr. Thurlow gave the reply: "I'm afraid we can't do that. I put it on to another suitcase, and sent it to the lady with about the same weight of stone inside. . . . I reckoned that if it was all straight someone would soon be at the door, and, if it wasn't, those concerned would get what they deserved."

But Kindell was on his feet. He said, "May I use your 'phone?"

Without waiting for a reply, he picked up the receiver. Mr. Thurlow heard the familiar number of the Foreign Office, and then, "Put me through to - - " the speaker's voice fell, and "I7B" was the next articulation distinctly heard.

After that, Kindell s two auditors had the chastened satisfaction of hearing an account of their own proceedings, which, though concisely accurate in its facts, was generously imaginative in regard to the motives from which they sprang. Irene heard: "When Miss Thurlow saw Miss Blinkwell come out, she guessed something was wrong, and she had the presence of mind to drive on without stopping. . . . Yes, I'm afraid she did, but that couldn't be helped. They couldn't make much of that. But when Mr. Thurlow heard what had happened, and that she had been seen, of course, he couldn't be sure, till he could get in touch with me, that there was anything wrong; but he wouldn't take any risk, and he sent a dummy suitcase, just changing the label. . . . Yes, it's still here. . . . Wait a moment, I'll let you know."

Kindell broke off to enquire for Mrs. Collinson's address, gave it, and was then occupied in some exchanges which suggested that the brilliance of the ambassador's action was more apparent to himself than to the gentleman to whom he spoke, and that Kindell was resisting that criticism by pointing out, first, that any delay that had occurred originated in his own detention by the French police, a subtlety for which he was not responsible and, second, that it had been reduced by his own initiative in getting into touch with the embassy in excess, if not in contradiction, of the orders he had received.

He hung up to say: "They want us to stand by and do nothing till they call up again. They'll be getting through to Paris now to deal with the Gustav angle. . . . I don't suppose we shall have to wait long."

Irene said, "I think the best thing I can do is to ring for tea."