The flush upon Sir William’s face deepened alarmingly. Under the bristling grey brows his eyes were hard with anger. He began to speak, broke off, swept his papers to one side, and, taking up the tantalus and the used glass, poured out a third of a glass of whisky. He let a small quantity of soda into it with a vicious jerk, and then sat with the glass between his hands, alternately sipping from it and interjecting sounds of angry protest. “The information is, I’m afraid, correct.” Henry’s tone, though studiously moderate, was extremely firm. “There is undoubtedly a leak, and, in view of Formula ‘B,’ it is vital that the leak should be found and stopped.” He addressed himself to Lady Heritage: “Sir William tells me that all employés correspond with the list in my possession, that none of them leave the enclosure, and that all letters are censored. By the way, who censors them?” “Ember,” growled Sir William. Lady Heritage elaborated the remark. “Mr. Ember—Father’s secretary.” She and Henry were both standing, with the corner of the writing-table between them. She saw inquiry in Henry’s face. He said: “Who does leave the premises?” “Father, once in a blue moon, I when I have any shopping to do, and, of course, Mr. Ember.” “And when you go you drive, of course? What I mean is—a chauffeur goes too?” Sir William made a sound between a snort and a laugh; Lady Heritage smiled. Both had the air of being pleased to catch Henry out. “The chauffeur is Lewis, who was your uncle’s coachman here for twenty-five years. Are you going to suggest that he has been selling Formula ‘A’ to a foreign power? I’m afraid you must think again.” “Who is Mr. Ember?” Sir William exploded. “Ember’s my secretary. He’s been my right hand for ten years, and if you’re going to make insinuations about him, you can leave my house and make them elsewhere. Why, damn it all, March!—why not accuse Raymond, or me?” “I don’t accuse any one, sir.” There was a pause, whilst the two men looked at one another. It was Sir William who looked away at last. He drained his glass and got up, pushing his chair so hard that it overturned. “You want to see all the men to check ’em by that infernal list of yours, do you? The sooner the better then; let’s get it over.”