“Let’s go into the lounge,” suggested Mark.

They went in, and when they were sitting around, Roger said :

“Pep was upstairs, presumably.”

“It seems likely,” admitted Mark.

“He wanted you to create a din while he got in upstairs and he —” Roger paused, boggling at the actual words.

“Took something away!” exploded Janet.

“We’re talking on supposition,” Mark said. “But if Pep learned that something incriminating was to be planted on you, obviously someone was to do it. There’s your problem — who and why ?”

“Yes.” Roger finished his tea in silence, then leaned back and studied the ceiling. The others did not interrupt his train of thought but Mark pretended to find some interest in a magazine. Suddenly Roger jumped to his feet, and stepped to the telephone in the corner of the room. After a short wait he said :

“Is Sir Guy Chatworth in, please?”

Janet stayed by the door, tensely. He was asked his name and then to hold on; he waited for a long time before Chat- worth’s servant — he had called the A.C. at his private flat, in Victoria — said that he was sorry but Sir Guy was not in and would not be in all the evening.

“So he won’t talk to his favourite officer?” Mark said.

“It’s fantastic!” exclaimed Janet. “I thought Chatworth was a friend. Roger, they can’t believe that you’ve done anything to deserve this. I mean — if they do they’re not worth a damn.”

“Indignant female expresses herself forcefully,” murmured Mark. “This is a conspiracy of silence. They wouldn’t have acted this way and certainly wouldn’t have put Abbott on the job if they hadn’t meant to make it as hot as they could, so they must have a good reason. It’s no use blinking at facts, is it ?”