"You shut up!" said the Angel, turning to him annoyed. "I'll come back and talk to you about it later!" Then he turned again to McTaggart, and pumped brilliant thoughts into his same ear with such violence that the young man's soul was all irradiated and full and he suddenly thought himself a genius. Such is the vanity of man! So little do we recognise inspiration from on high! "It's as easy," prompted the Angel, "as falling off a log. All you've got to do is to say you've met him, and tell him who you are. He'll know you're from the Press--you look like it--and he'll think he's met you. _Then_ slip it into his pocket, bully boy! Slip it into his pocket!" And all the time McTaggart was saying within his own soul: "That's a brilliant idea! Now I don't suppose anyone else would have an idea like that! But, there! I'm always getting good ideas at the right time!" He stalked his host and Collop round the top of the stairs and down the long passage above. He saw the door open; he heard the Home Secretary say cheerfully, "There's a bath through that door. Have you got everything you want? I hope they've unpacked your things?" He heard the cheerful voice of Collop reply: "Right-o! Everything in the garden's lovely!" He saw the Home Secretary go off with a very changed expression in the gloom of the passage. He flattened himself in a deep doorway, a little angry that he should be playing the spy--but necessity drove him. He waited till he had heard his host go down the stairs; then he knocked at the detective's bedroom door. Full of angelic inspiration--which human pride mistook for genius--he entered in. "Mr. Collop," he said without hesitation, "you know me? Hamish McTaggart--the Daily Sun? ... You'll excuse me for not using your real name?" And he smiled. "Why, Mr. McTaggart, I've heard of you often enough. Where did we meet? And as for the real name"--he winked--"less said the better! I'm in the Foreign Office just now. I'm from Bogotar ... How come? When did we meet?" "In the Savoy bar," hushed the Angel hurriedly into McTaggart's ear. "In the Savoy bar," said McTaggart, aloud. "Not during the Bullingdon case?" said the delighted but indiscreet Mr. so-called Collop, stretching out both his hands. "Wink!" pumped the Angel; and Hamish McTaggart winked--for the first time in his life. It was a clumsy wink, rather like that of the hippopotamus when he comes out of the water, in which element the huge pachyderm so serenely sleeps. But it was good enough for the Secret Service. "Ah! Mr. McTaggart, Mr. McTaggart!" said Collop, shaking both the journalist's hands up and down like pump handles. "Well met! Now then, you'll make a feature of this in the paper, won't you?" "I'm not here for that," said McTaggart modestly. "I'm only a guest; but of course I can see that _The Howl_ ..."