"It's by no means obvious to me," cried Mr. Llewellyn John, complainingly. "By the way, Sir Lyster, how many cars have you in the garage?" enquired Malcolm Sage. "In case we want them," he added. "I have two, and there are"--he paused for a moment--"five others," he added; "seven in all." "Any carriages, or dog-carts?" "No. We have no horses." "Bicycles?" "A few of the servants have them," replied Sir Lyster, a little impatiently. "The bicycles are also kept in the garage, I take it?" "They are." This time there was no mistaking the note of irritation in Sir Lyster's voice. "There may be several messengers from Whitehall to-morrow," said Malcolm Sage, after a pause. "Please keep them waiting until they show signs of impatience. It is important. Whatever happens here, it would be better not to acquaint the police--_whatever happens_," he added with emphasis. "And now, sir"--he turned to Mr. Llewellyn John--"I should like that note to the Postmaster-general." Mr. Llewellyn John sat down reluctantly at a table and wrote a note. "But suppose the thief hands the document to an accomplice?" said Sir Lyster presently, with something like emotion in his voice. "That's exactly what I am supposing," was Malcolm Sage's reply and, taking the note that Mr. Llewellyn John held out to him, he placed it in his breast pocket, buttoned up his overcoat, and walked across to the window through which he had entered. With one hand upon the curtain he turned. "If I call you may notice that I have acquired a slight foreign accent," he said, and with that he slipped behind the curtain. A moment later the sound was heard of the window being quietly opened and then shut again. "Well, I'm damned!" cried Lord Beamdale, and for the moment Mr. Llewelyln John and Sir Lyster forgot their surprise at Malcolm Sage's actions in their astonishment at their colleague's remark. CHAPTER VII THE OUTRAGE AT THE GARAGE I When Mr. Walters descended the broad staircase of The Towers on the Sunday morning he found two things to disturb him--Sir Lyster's note on the hall-table, and the Japanese valet "lost" in the conservatory. He read the one with attention, and rebuked the other with acrimony. Having failed to find the missing key himself, he proceeded to the housekeeper's room, and poured into the large and receptive ear of Mrs. Eames the story of his woes. "And this a Sunday too," the housekeeper was just remarking, in a fat, comfortable voice, when Richards, the chauffeur, burst unceremoniously into the room. "Someone's taken the pencils from all the magnetos," he shouted angrily, his face moist with heat and lubricant. "Is that your only excuse for bursting into a lady's room without knocking?" enquired Mr. Walters, with an austere dignity he had copied directly from Sir Lyster. "If you apply to me presently I will lend you a pencil. In the meantime----"