"And in a general way," Mr. Tyritt assented, smiling, "they are perfectly welcome to write home to their friends and relations each week and tell them everything they see happening about them, everything they know about us." Norgate rose reluctantly to his feet. "I won't trouble you any longer," he decided. "I presume that if I make a few investigations on my own account, and bring you absolute proof that any one of these people whose names are upon my list are in traitorous communication with Germany, you will view the matter differently?" "Without a doubt," Mr. Tyritt promised. "Is that your list? Will you allow me to glance through it?" "I brought it here to leave in your hands," Norgate replied, passing it over. "Your attitude, however, seems to render that course useless." Mr. Tyritt adjusted his eyeglasses and glanced benevolently at the document. A sharp ejaculation broke from his lips. As his eyes wandered downwards, his first expression of incredulity gave way to one of suppressed amusement. "Why, Mr. Norgate," he exclaimed, as he laid it down, "do you mean to seriously accuse these people of being engaged in any sort of league against us?" "Most certainly I do," Norgate insisted. "But the thing is ridiculous!" Mr. Tyritt declared. "There are names here of princes, of bankers, of society women, many of them wholly and entirely English, some of them household names. You expect me to believe that these people are all linked together in what amounts to a conspiracy to further the cause of Germany at the expense of the country in which they live, to which they belong?" Norgate picked up his hat. "I expect you to believe nothing, Mr. Tyritt," he said drily. "Sorry I troubled you." "Not at all," Mr. Tyritt protested, the slight irritation passing from his manner. "Such a visit as yours is an agreeable break in my routine work. I feel as though I might be a character in a great modern romance. The names of your amateur criminals are still tingling in my memory." Norgate turned back from the door. "Remember them, if you can, Mr. Tyritt," he advised, "You may have cause to, some day." CHAPTER VII Norgate sat, the following afternoon, upon the leather-stuffed fender of a fashionable mixed bridge club in the neighbourhood of Berkeley Square, exchanging greetings with such of the members as were disposed to find time for social amenities. A smartly-dressed woman of dark complexion and slightly foreign appearance, who had just cut out of a rubber, came over and seated herself by his side. She took a cigarette from her case and accepted a match from Norgate. "So you are really back again!" she murmured. "It scarcely seems possible." "I am just beginning to realise it myself," he replied. "You haven't altered, Bertha." "My dear man," she protested, "you did not expect me to age in a month, did you? It can scarcely be more than that since you left for Berlin. Are you not back again sooner than you expected?" Norgate nodded.