Picking up the tray he carried it over to the grate, emptied the powder into the fireplace, wiped the tray and replaced it upon the table, thrusting the duster back into the drawer. He then sank once more into his chair, conscious that the morning had begun ill. Ten minutes later he rose, unlocked the door and went out into the hall. He took his hat from the stand and brushed it carefully. Picking up his gloves and umbrella, he gave a final look round, then composing his features for the outside world, he opened the door and passed out into Apthorpe Road. For such of his neighbours as he encountered he had a cheery word, a lifting of his hat, or a wave of the hand. Housewives would sigh enviously as they saw Mr. Naylor pass genially on his way. He was always the same, they told themselves, remembering with a little pang the vagaries of their own husbands. Before his return to "The Cedars" for lunch, Mr. Naylor with unaccustomed emphasis foretold the doom of the Government unless it immediately rushed a measure through Parliament for the internment of all aliens. He was nothing if not thorough. CHAPTER VII MR. NAYLOR RECEIVES A VISITOR I "Height five feet six and a half inches." "Five feet eight, sir." "Chest thirty-eight." "Thirty-eight and a half, sir." "Weight eleven stone nine." "Twelve stone, sir." "Near enough." "Yes, sir," replied Thompson. "You've got everything?" "Down to his under-wear, sir," was the response. "The ring?" "Yes, sir." Malcolm Sage looked up from the buff-coloured paper before him, then picking up a photograph from the table, proceeded to study it with great intentness. "Yes," he said, "Finlay can do it." At that moment Colonel Walton strode into the room, smoking the inevitable cigar. Thompson straightened himself to attention, Malcolm Sage nodded, then once more became absorbed in the photograph. "I hear Finlay's here," said Colonel Walton. Sage looked up and nodded. "We've just been checking his measurements," he said. "With that Bergen fellow's?" Sage nodded. "It's a considerable risk," said Colonel Walton. "Finlay likes 'em," retorted Sage without looking up. "I'd give a good deal to solve that little mystery." The mystery to which Malcolm Sage referred was the arrest of a man on a Bergen-Hull boat some ten days previously. Although his passport and papers were in order, his story when he had been interrogated was not altogether satisfactory. It had been decided to deport him; but Malcolm Sage, who had subjected him to a lengthy cross-examination, had decided that it would be better to detain him for the time being, and the suspect was consequently lodged in the Tower. Both Malcolm Sage and Colonel Walton were convinced that he had been sent over on a special mission. "Where's Finlay?" asked Colonel Walton. "He's painting the lily," said Sage with a glint in his eye. "In other words?" enquired Colonel Walton.