Fischer's face seemed to become more set and grim than ever. "A British destroyer," he muttered to himself. "It was kind of a joy ride," Lutchester explained confidentially, "a cousin of mine who was in command came in to see me and say good-by, just after I'd received my orders from the head of my department to come out here on the next steamer, and he smuggled me on board that night. Mum's the word, though, if you please. We asked nobody's leave. It would have taken about a month to have heard anything definite from the Admiralty." "A British destroyer come across the Atlantic, eh?" Mr. Fischer muttered. "She must have come out on a special mission, then, I imagine." "That is not for me to say," Lutchester observed, with stiff reticence. Pamela suddenly and purposely intervened. She turned towards Fischer. "Mr. Lutchester brought some rather curious news," she observed. "He got it by wireless. Do you remember all the fuss there was about the disappearance of Captain Holderness' friend at Henry's?" "I heard something about it," he admitted grimly. "Well, Captain Graham was in my party, so naturally I was more interested than any one else. To all appearance he entered Henry's Restaurant, walked up the stairs, and disappeared into the skies. The place was ransacked everywhere for him, but he never turned up. Well, the very next day he was murdered in a motor-car on his way to Northumberland." "Incredible!" Fischer murmured. "Seems a queer set out," Lutchester remarked, "but it's quite true. He was supposed to have discovered a marvellous new explosive, the formula for which had been stolen. He was on his way up to Northumberland to make fresh experiments." "For myself I have little faith," Fischer observed, "in any new explosives. In Germany they believe, I understand, that the limit of destructiveness has been attained." "The Germans should know," Lutchester admitted carelessly. "I'm afraid they are still a good deal ahead of us in most scientific matters. I will take the liberty, of calling some time to-morrow, Miss Van Teyl, and hope I shall have the pleasure of improving my acquaintance with your brother. Good night, Mr. Fischer." "Are you staying in the hotel?" the latter inquired. "On the fifteenth floor," was the somewhat gloomy reply. "I shan't be able to shave in front of the window without feeling giddy. However, I suppose that's America. Good-by, everybody." With a little inclusive and farewell bow he disappeared. They heard him make his way down the corridor and ring for the lift. Rather a curious silence ensued, which was broken at last by Pamela. "Is that," she asked, throwing herself into an easy-chair and selecting a cigarette, "just an ordinary type of a nice, well-bred, unintelligent, self-sufficient Englishman, or--" "Or what?" Fischer asked, with interest. Pamela watched the smoke curl from the end of her cigarette.