Tommy rose to his feet with an alacrity that answered the question so far as he was concerned, and I acknowledged that a brief interval for refreshment would be by no means unwelcome. "Well, I'm afraid I can't spare Latimer just yet," he said, "but you two go off and have a good lunch. Come back here again as soon as you've done. I will ring up the War Office and the Admiralty while you are away, and we will arrange for a couple of their men to meet us here, and then you can explain about your new explosive. I fancy you will find them quite an appreciative audience." He pressed a bell by his side, and getting up from the table, accompanied us to the door, where I stopped for a moment to try and express my thanks both to him and Sir George. "My dear Mr. Lyndon," he interrupted courteously, "you have been in prison for three years for a crime that you didn't commit, and in return for that you have done England a service that it is almost impossible to overrate. Under the circumstances even a Cabinet Minister may be excused a little common civility." As he spoke there came a knock at the door, and in answer to his summons the impassive butler person appeared on the threshold. "Show these gentlemen out, Simpson," he said, "and let me know directly they return." Then, shaking my hand in a friendly fashion, he added with a quizzical smile, "If you should happen to come across any mutual acquaintance of ours, perhaps you will be kind enough to convey my unofficial congratulations. I hope before long to have the privilege of offering them personally." I promised to deliver his message, and, following our guide downstairs, we passed out into the street. "I like that chap," said Tommy. "He's got no silly side about him. Joyce always said he was a good sort." He stopped on the pavement, and with his usual serene disregard for the respectabilities proceeded to fill and light a huge briar pipe. "What's the programme now?" he inquired. "I'm just dying for some grub." "We'll get a taxi and run down to the flat and pick up Joyce," I said. "Then we'll come back to the Café Royal and have the best lunch that's ever been eaten in London." Tommy indulged in one of his deep chuckles. "If anyone's expecting me in Downing Street before six o'clock," he observed, "I rather think he's backed a loser." It was not until we were in a taxi, and speeding rapidly past the House of Commons, that I broached the painful subject of George. "I don't know what to do," I said. "If he's at his house, he has been arrested by now, and if he isn't the police will probably find him before I shall. It will break my heart if I don't get hold of him for five minutes." Tommy grunted sympathetically. "It's just on the cards," he said, "that Joyce might know where he is."