"God bless my soul!" ejaculated Mortimer turning round to stare at him through his grotesque glasses. And then he said very deliberately in German:
"War niemand da?"
Desmond stood up promptly.
"What do you want with me?" he asked quietly, "and why do you speak German in my house?" Mortimer gazed at him blankly.
"Excellence, most excellent," he gasped. "I love prudence. My friend, where are your eyes?"He put a large, firm hand up and touched the upper edge of the left lapel of his jacket. Desmond followed his gesture with his eyes and saw the other's first finger resting on the shiny glass head of a black pin. Almost instinctively Desmond imitated the gesture. His fingers came into contact with a glassheaded pin similarly embedded in the upper edge of the lapel of his own coat.
Then he understood. This must be the distinguishing badge of this confraternity of spies. It was a clever idea, for the black pin was practically invisible, unless one looked for it, and even if seen, would give rise to no suspicions. It had obviously escaped the notice of the Chief and his merry men, and Desmond made a mental resolve to rub this omission well into his superior on the first opportunity. He felt he owed the Chief one.
Mr. Mortimer cleared his throat, as though to indicate the conclusion of the episode. Desmond sat down on the settee.
"Nothing came while I was away!" he said.
"Now that you are back," Mortimer remarked, polishing his glasses with a bandanna handkerchief, "the service will be resumed. Ihave come to see you, Mr. Bellward," he went on, turning to Desmond, "contrary to my usual practice, mainly because I wished to confirm by personal observation the very favorable opinion Ihad formed of your ability from our correspondence. You have already demonstrated your discretion to me. If you continue to show that your prudence is on a level with your zeal, believe Ishall not prove myself ungrateful."
So saying he settled his glasses on his nose again.
The action woke Desmond from a brown study. During the operation of wiping his spectacles, Mr. Mortimer had given Desmond a glimpse of his eyes in their natural state without the protection of those distorting glasses. To his intense surprise Desmond had seen, instead of the weak, blinking eyes of extreme myopia, a pair of keen piercing eyes with the clear whites of perfect health. Those blue eyes, set rather close together, seemed dimly familiar. Someone, somewhere, had once looked at him like that.
"You are too kind," murmured Desmond, grappling for the thread of the conversation.
Mortimer did not apparently notice his absentmindedness.
"Everything has run smoothly," he resumed, "on the lines on which we have been working hitherto, but more important work lies before us. I have found it necessary to select a quiet rendezvous where I might have an opportunity of conferring in person with my associates. The first of these conferences will take place very shortly. I count upon your attendance, Bellward!""I shall ,not fail you," replied Desmond. "But where is this rendezvous of yours, might I ask?"Mortimer shot a quick glance at him.
