"The fact that the papers are not in the possession of either of them," Mr. Brown said reflectively, "proves that they made some move of which you have no record." "Precisely," Crawshay agreed, "but it must have been a move of so slight a character that chance may reveal it to us at any moment." "Describe Jocelyn Thew to me," Mr. Brown begged. "He has every appearance," Crawshay declared, "of being a man of breeding. He is scarcely middle-aged--tall and of athletic build. He dresses well, speaks well, and I should take him anywhere for an English public school and college man." "Did New York give you his record?" "In a cloudy sort of way. He seems to have had a most interesting career, ranching out West, fighting in Mexico, fighting in several of the Central American states, and fighting, I shrewdly suspect, against England in South Africa. He seems to have been a sort of stormy petrel, and to have turned up in any place where there was trouble. In New York the police always suspected him of being connected with some great criminal movements, but they were never able to lay even a finger upon him. He lived at one of the best hotels in the city, disappeared sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks, sometimes for a year, but always returned quite quietly, with apparently any amount of money to spend, and that queer look which comes to a man who has been up against big things." "He is an Englishman, I suppose?" "He must be. His accent and manners and appearance are all unmistakable." "How long was he suspected of being in the pay of our enemies before this thing transpired?" "Only a very short time. There was a little gang in New York--Rentoul, the man who had the wireless in Fifth Avenue, was in it--and they used to meet at a place in Fourteenth Street, belonging to an old man named Sharey. That's where Miss Sharey comes into the business. There were some queer things done there, but they don't concern this business, and New York has the records of them." "Jocelyn Thew," Mr. Brown repeated slowly to himself. "Where did you say he was staying?" "At the Savoy Court." Mr. Brown looked fixedly at the cables, fluttering a little in the breeze which blew in through the half-open window. "All this isn't very encouraging, Mr. Crawshay," he sighed. "Up to the present no," the former admitted. "Yet I can promise you one thing, sir. Those papers shall not leave the country." "I am glad to hear you speak with so much confidence," Mr. Brown observed drily. "Mr. Jocelyn Thew seems at any rate to have managed to secrete them without difficulty." "That may be so," Crawshay acknowledged, "and yet I am convinced of one thing. They are disposed of in some perfectly obvious way, and within the next forty-eight hours he will make some effort to repossess himself of them. If he does, he will fail." Mr. Brown glanced at his watch.