“Not at all. My movements are extremely simple. I shall return to my hotel, where I expect to remain until I retire. A friend of mine, an American, Mr. Rebener, whom I have known for a great many years, will dine with me there this evening.” “An old friend of yours you say?” The Colonel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes,” replied Edestone. “I have known him for fifteen years.” For reasons of his own he had made it a point not to include Rebener’s name among those mentioned by Smith in his confession, nor did he refer to it now. Colonel Stewart hesitated a moment. “Of course, Mr. Edestone,” he said finally, “you Americans are neutrals and are at liberty to select your friends where you please, but my advice to you would be not to take London as the place to entertain people with German names. You will probably understand that we cannot take any chances.” “I have known Mr. Rebener,” repeated Edestone, “for years. He is one of our most prominent men, and I am confident that he would not lend himself to any of these Middle-Age methods.” “You can never tell,” said Colonel Stewart darkly. “Germany holds out to the faithful the promise of great rewards at the end of this war, which she has convinced them cannot fail to end successfully for her.” “No,” the American insisted stubbornly. “Mr. Rebener might readily sell to Germany a few million dollars’ worth of munitions of war, and likewise tell his friend, Count Bernstoff, anything that he might hear. I will even go so far as to say that he might make an especial effort to pick up bits of gossip here in London; and he will almost certainly endeavour to use his influence with me in favour of Germany. But that he would take part in a plot to kill, kidnap, or rob me is incredible.” “I see you are determined to have your own way, Mr. Edestone,” the Colonel smiled, “so I come now to the most difficult part of my mission. What do you propose to do with that instrument which you now carry so carelessly in your coat pocket? You can readily understand that it is not safe in your hotel, or, in fact, at hardly any other place in London outside of the vaults of the Bank of England. We are put in the delicate position of having to protect it without having the privilege of asking that it be put in our charge.” “I appreciate all that you say and have considered destroying it, but have now come to the conclusion to keep it always with me, for, after all that you tell me, I think that I am in pretty safe hands in London.” “But think, my dear fellow,” cried the Colonel jumping up, “what might happen if this thing falls into the hands of the Germans! To prevent that it would be my duty to shoot you on the spot.” “Good work! Right-o!” laughed Edestone. “You have my permission to shoot whenever it goes to the Germans. Don’t worry. They’ll not murder and rob me in the middle of dear old London with all your fellows about, and I do not expect to leave the hotel tonight.” CHAPTER XIV THE ROYAL TEA-TABLE