Gerald sighed. “It’s a little difficult for me. Here’s your car. Good luck to you!” “My excuses to Mr. Fentolin,” Lieutenant Godfrey shouted, “and many thanks.” He jumped into the automobile and was soon on his way back. Gerald watched him until he was nearly out of sight. On the knoll, two of the wireless operators were already at work. Mr. Fentolin sat in his chair below, watching. The blue sparks were flashing. A message was just being delivered. Presently Mr. Fentolin turned his chair, and with Meekins by his side, made his way back to the house. He passed along the hall and into his study. Gerald, who was on his way to the dining-room, heard the ring of the telephone bell and the call for the trunk special line. He hesitated for a moment. Then he made his way slowly down towards the study and stood outside the door, listening. In a moment he heard Mr. Fentolin’s clear voice, very low yet very penetrating. “The Mediterranean Fleet will be forty-seven hours before it comes together,” was the message he heard. “The Channel Fleet will manoeuvre off Sheerness, waiting for it. The North Sea Fleet is seventeen units under nominal strength.” Gerald turned the handle of the door slowly and entered. Mr. Fentolin was just replacing the receiver on its stand. He looked up at his nephew, and his eyebrows came together. “What do you mean by this?” he demanded. “Don’t you know that I allow no one in here when I am telephoning on the private wire?” Gerald closed the door behind him and summoned up all his courage. “It is because I have heard what you were saying over the telephone that I am here,” he declared. “I want to know to whom you were sending that message which you have intercepted outside.” CHAPTER XXII Mr. Fentolin sat for a moment in his chair with immovable face. Then he pointed to the door, which Gerald had left open behind him. “Close that door, Gerald.” The boy obeyed. Mr. Fentolin waited until he had turned around again. “Come and stand over here by the side of the table,” he directed. Gerald came without hesitation. He stood before his uncle with folded arms. There was something else besides sullenness in his face this morning, something which Mr. Fentolin was quick to recognise. “I do not quite understand the nature of your question, Gerald,” Mr. Fentolin began. “It is unlike you. You do not seem yourself. Is there anything in particular the matter?” “Only this,” Gerald answered firmly. “I don’t understand why this naval fellow should come here and ask you to close up your wireless because secrets have been leaking out, and a few moments afterwards you should be picking up a message and telephoning to London information which was surely meant to be private. That’s all. I’ve come to ask you about it.” “You heard the message, then?” “I did.” “You listened--at the keyhole?” “I listened outside,” Gerald assented doggedly. “I am glad I listened. Do you mind answering my question?”