He made a curious gesture with his hand towards the turned down chair next to the woman, which everyone present imitated, turning to the chair as they did so. "I wish No. 2 were with us to-night," he continued. "There are many things to be done. Unsuspected difficulties have arisen." "Have you had his report?" It was the American who spoke. "As yet--I have nothing from him." There was a pause. "I cannot understand it." "You think it may have--gone astray?" "That is--a possibility." "In other words," said five o'clock softly, "there is--danger." He spoke the word delicately--and yet with relish. The Russian nodded emphatically. "Yes--there's danger. Too much is getting known about us--about this place. I know of several people who suspect." He added coldly: "They must be silenced." Bundle felt a little cold shiver pass down her spine. If she were to be found, would she be silenced? She was recalled suddenly to attention by a word. "So nothing has come to light about Chimneys?" Mosgorovsky shook his head. "Nothing." Suddenly No. 5 leant forward. "I agree with Anna; where is our president--No. 7? He who called us into being. Why do we never see him?" "No. 7," said the Russian, "has his own ways of working." "So you always say." "I will say more," said Mosgorovsky. "I pity the man--or woman--who comes up against him." There was an awkward silence. "We must get on with our business," said Mosgorovsky quietly. "No. 3, you have the plans of Wyvern Abbey?" Bundle strained her ears. So far she had neither caught a glimpse of No. 3, nor had she heard his voice. She heard it now and recognized it as unmistakable. Low, pleasant, indistinct--the voice of a well-bred Englishman. "I've got them here, sir." Some papers were shoved across the table. Everyone bent forward. Presently Mosgorovsky raised his head again. "And the list of guests?" "Here." The Russian read them. "Sir Stanley Digby. Mr. Terence O'Rourke. Sir Oswald and Lady Coote. Mr. Bateman. Countess Anna Radzky. Mrs. Macatta. Mr. James Thesiger--" he paused and then asked sharply: "Who is Mr. James Thesiger?" The American laughed. "I guess you needn't worry any about him. The usual complete young ass." The Russian continued reading. "Herr Eberhard and Mr. Eversleigh. That completes the list." "Does it?" said Bundle silently. "What about that sweet girl, Lady Eileen Brent?" "Yes, there seems nothing to worry about there," said Mosgorovsky. He looked across the table. "I suppose there's no doubt whatever about the value of Eberhard's invention?" Three o'clock made a laconic British reply. "None whatever." "Commercially it should be worth millions," said the Russian. "And internationally--well, one knows only too well the greed of nations." Bundle had an idea that behind his mask he was smiling unpleasantly. "Yes," he went on, "a gold mine." "Well worth a few lives," said No. 5, cynically, and laughed.