A fleeting smile played on the hard face of the American. “By that I meant that it requires nerve for a man of Maitland’s character to dismiss a man who must share a fair number of his secrets. Not that I should imagine there would be any great confidence between these two. What is Johnson doing?” “He’s looking for a job, I think,” said Ray. He was getting a little irritated by the persistence of the stranger’s questions. He had a feeling that he was being “pumped.” Possibly Mr. Broad sensed this suspicion, for he dropped his flow of interrogations and switched to the police raid, a prolific source of discussion amongst the members of Heron’s. Ray looked after him as he walked out a little later and was puzzled. Why was he so keen on knowing all these things? Was he testing him? He was glad to be alone to consider this extraordinary commission which had come to him. The adventure of it, the disguise of it, all were particularly appealing to a romantic young man; and Ray Bennett lacked nothing in the matter of romance. There was a certain delightful suggestion of danger, a hint almost as thrilling of lawlessness, in these instructions. What might be the end of the adventure, he did not trouble to consider. It was well for his peace of mind that he was no seer; for, if he had been, he would have flown that very moment, seeking for some desolate place, some hole in the ground where he could lie and shiver and hide. CHAPTER XXIV WHY MAITLAND CAME ELLA BENNETT was cooking the dinner when her father came in, depositing his heavy camera on the floor of the sitting-room, but carrying, as was usual, his grip to the bedroom. She heard the closing of the cupboard door and the turning of the lock, but had long ceased to wonder why he invariably kept his bag locked in that cupboard. He was looking very tired and old; there were deeper lines under his eyes, and the pallor of his cheeks was even more pronounced. “Did you have a good time, father?” she asked. It was the invariable question, and invariably John Bennett made no other reply than a nod. “I nearly lost my camera this morning—forgot it,” he said. “It was quite a success—taking the camera away with me—but I must get used to remembering that I have it. I found a stretch of country full of wild fowl, and got some really good pictures. Round about Horsham my opportunities are limited, and I think I shall take the machine with me wherever I go.” He seated himself in the old chair by the fireplace and was filling his pipe slowly. “I saw Elk on the platform at King’s Cross,” he said. “I suppose he was looking for somebody.” “What time did you leave where you were?” she asked. “Last night,” he replied briefly, but did not volunteer any further information about his movements.