The contemptuous insolence of his visitor seemed to impress Mr. Naylor. The look of suspicion in his eyes became less marked. "How did you know?" he asked, still wary. "We waste time," was the response with a wave of the hand. For a few moments Mr. Naylor sat watching Van Helder as he continued to blow rings with manifest content. "Listen," continued Van Helder. "John Dene has brought over here an invention, a submarine that is to end the war. He has given it to the Admiralty." "Given it!" involuntarily repeated Mr. Naylor. "Given it. There are patriots even in England. You think he is trying to sell it, therefore you try to remove him." "Not selling it." Mr. Naylor leaned slightly forward. "He gives it on condition that he commands it with his own men. It makes easy the matter." "Then it is true what----" Mr. Naylor stopped. "How did you learn this?" He slobbered his words slightly as he spoke. "I know things, it is my duty," was the response. "But what proof----?" With great deliberation Van Helder drew from his pocket a large envelope; extracting a single sheet of paper he handed it across the table. Mr. Naylor snatched it eagerly and proceeded to devour it with his eyes. "I also got a set of plans of a submarine; but it was one of our own. He is clever, this man." "How did you get it?" Van Helder smiled. "How did you get the copy?" he enquired. "The copy! How did you know?" Mr. Naylor stared at him, his jaw a little dropped. He swallowed noisily. "You have been clumsy," repeated Van Helder. "You try to kill the cock that lays the eggs of gold." He shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. Mr. Naylor flushed angrily. "And you?" he almost snarled. "I am here to watch." He looked across at Mr. Naylor with a cunning smile. He was at last sure of his ground. "Watch who?" Van Helder shrugged his shoulders, and proceeded to light a new cigarette from the burning end of the old one. "You must not kill--yet," he said, gazing at the end of his cigarette to see that it was well alight. "What then?" demanded Mr. Naylor. His jowls had returned and the yellow of his teeth was visible between his slightly parted lips. "Wait and watch," was the reply. "And let him go North," sneered the other. "If you kill, where are the plans? Do as you would," he continued indifferently. "There will be The Day for you, too. Now I go." He made a movement to rise; but Mr. Naylor motioned him back into his chair. Two hours later Mr. Naylor himself let out his visitor. Closing the front door, he returned to his study, where for an hour he sat at his table gazing straight in front of him. Mr. Naylor was puzzled. Conscious that he was being followed by a small man in a grey suit with shifty eyes, James Finlay made his way leisurely to the High Road where he took a 'bus bound for Piccadilly Circus. CHAPTER VIII DOROTHY WEST AT HOME