“Room 8,” declared one man at last. “He’s shifted lately, but I think he’s Room 8. Anyway, Room 8 will tell you.” Once more we made our way along dirty passages, and climbed up and down unswept stairs. “It’s Room 11,” declared Room 8 to our inquiries. “You’ll find what you want there.” “They’ve been shifting,” the Tommy apologised to me. He stopped a man he knew. “Who’s the best person to go to?” He jerked his head in my direction. The man rubbed his chin with his forefinger. He thought for a long time. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “Have people never been here to inquire before?” I asked the Tommy. “Lots,” he replied cheerfully. “Things have been shifted round a bit lately. I was in armoured cars before. Wait here.” He disappeared from my sight into Room 11. I propped up a wall and waited. Presently the door of No. 11 opened cautiously, and a pair of eyes stared at me. “Come in here,” ordered the owner of the eyes mysteriously, as soon as he had made up his mind that I was not dangerous. It was a medium-sized room filled with photographs. There were photographs all over the walls, all over the table, all over the chairs. The Tommy withdrew. The people in attendance upon the photographs, both male and female, stared at me curiously. “Fill this up,” said my mysterious acquaintance. He put a form before me in secretive fashion. “Haven’t I filled up enough before?” I asked, looking sadly at the slips in his hand. I dipped the pen in the ink, and prepared to write again. The man leaned over my shoulder confidentially. “You’ve come to sign on as a woman searcher?” “What?” “A woman searcher?” “Good Heavens, no!” I cried. “If you had troubled to read those papers you are holding you wouldn’t have thought that. Your people arrested my husband last night because they found ammunition....” The look of horror on his face stopped me. I glanced all round at frozen faces. Everybody seemed to have been turned into stone. At last the spell was broken. My mysterious acquaintance jerked himself to life and pushed me out of the room. “The wrong department,” he hissed. “Good God, you should never have got in here!” The Tommy slid slowly off the window sill. “All right?” He seemed an old and tried friend. “The wrong department,” I said drearily. “Why, don’t you know your way about your old Castle?” “It’s a tricky sort of a place.” He scratched his head at the thought of its trickiness. An officer was crossing the yard. I hurried after him, stopped him, and poured forth my wrongs. He listened attentively, guiding me as he walked by my side with gentle motions of the hand. “Room 13,” he said with a smile, as we stopped outside it. “I think you will find what you want in here.” He knocked on the door and went in, leaving me outside. Presently he came out again. “Go in. This is right.” “To the last day of my life, I’ll never forget your goodness,” I murmured. He nodded and disappeared round a corner.