did he encounter any considerable bodies of troops until

A very faint throbbing somewhere outside answered Desmond's unspoken question.

Mortimer flung aside his paper.

"Isn't that a car?" he asked, "that'll be they. I sent Max to Wentfield station to meet our friends!"

There was the sound of voices, of bustle in the hall. Then the door opened and a man came in. Desmond had a brief moment of acute suspense. Was he supposed to know him?

He was a short, ugly fellow with immensely broad shoulders, a heavy puffy face, a gross, broad nose, and a tooth-brush moustache. He might have been a butcher to look at. In the top edge of his coat lapel, he wore a small black pin with a glass head.

"Well, Max," said Mortimer. "Have you brought them all?"

The man was mustering Desmond with a suspicious, unfriendly stare.

"My friend, Bellward!" said Mortimer, clapping Desmond on the shoulder. "You've heard of Bellward, Max!"