king that we are indeed his loyal supporters. It would

Behrend adjusted his pince-nez.

"No. 13 is perfectly right," he remarked, "he knows his territory, and he should be allowed to work there."

"You, too," Mortimer observed in the same calm tone as before, "will take your orders from me!"

With a quick gesture the young man dashed his long black hair out of his eyes.

"Maybe," he replied, "but only as long as I feel sure that your orders are worth following.

"Do you dare..." began Mortimer, shouting.

"... At present," the other continued, as though Mortimer had not spoken. "I don't feel at all sure that they are."

The atmosphere was getting a trifle heated, thought Desmond. If he judged Mortimer aright, he was not the man to let himself be dictated to by anybody. He was wondering how the scene would end when suddenly something caught his eye that took his mind right away from the events going forward in the room.