Skillfully, almost imperceptibly, Desmond edged the talk on to the war. In this domain, too, Mortimer showed himself a man of broad views, of big, comprehensive ideas. Towards the strategy and tactics of the two sides, he adopted the attitude of an impartial onlooker, but in his comments he proved himself to have a thorough grasp of the military situation. He talked freely and ably of such things as tanks, the limited objective in the attack and the decentralization of responsibility in the field.
Encouraged by his volubility, for he was a man who delighted in conversation, Desmond gradually gave the talk a personal turn.
But willing as Mortimer showed himself to discuss the war generally, about his personal share he was as mute as a fish. Try as he would Desmond could get nothing out of him. Again and again, he brought the conversation round to personal topics; but every time his companion contrived to switch it back to general lines.
At last Desmond risked a direct question. By this time a pint of Pommery and Greno was tingling in his veins and he felt he didn't care if the roof fell in.
"Ever since Nur-el-Din told me yon were of the Crown Prince's personal service," he said, "I have been devoured with curiosity to know what you were doing before you came to England. Were you at Metz with his Imperial Highness? Did you see the assault at Verdun? Were you present at the capture of the Fort of Douaumont?" '
Mortimer shook his head, laughing, and held up a deprecating hand.
"Professional discretion, my dear fellow, professional discretion!" he retorted. "You know what it is!"Then lowering his voice, he added:
"Between ourselves the less said about my connection with Master Willie the better. Our colleagues are already restless at what they consider my neglect of my professional work. They attribute it to the wiles of Nur-el-Din. They may if they like and I don't propose to disillusion them. You understand, Bellward?"His voice was commanding and he bent his brows at Desmond, who hastened to protest that his discretion in the matter would be absolute.
When they had had their coffee and Mortimer was contentedly puffing one of Bellward's excellent double Coronas, Desmond rose from the table.
"If you will excuse me a minute," he said, "I will just go across to the library and see if my housekeeper has put all in order for our guests!"Instantly Mortimer got up from the table.
"By all means," he said, and emptied his glass of brandy, "so, Iwill come with you!"
Mortimer meant to stick to him, thought Desmond; that was evident. Then an idea struck him. Why should he not telephone in Mortimer's presence? To ask for Mr. Elias was in no way incriminating and if help came promptly, Mortimer could be secured and the other spies pounced upon in their turn as they arrived.
Therefore, as soon as they reached the library, Desmond walked over to the desk and picked up the telephone receiver from its hook.
"Excuse me," he said to Mortimer, "I had forgotten I had to ring up Stanning!""Oh, dear," said Mortimer from his place on the hearth rug where he was warming his coat tails in front of the fire, "isn't that unfortunate? I wish I had known! Tut, tut, how annoying for you!"The telephone seemed quite dead.
"I don't understand!" said Desmond to Mortimer. "What's annoying?""The telephone, my dear Bellward,"--Mortimer spoke in a pompous voice--"the telephone is the symbol of the age in which we live, the age of publicity but also of indiscretion. It is almost as indiscreet to have a telephone in your house as to keep a diary.
Therefore, in view of our little party here this evening, to prevent us from being disturbed in any way, I took the liberty of... of severing the connection... temporarily, mind you, only temporarily; it shall be restored as soon as we break up. I have some small acquaintance with electrical engineering."Desmond was silent. Disappointment had deprived him for the moment of the power of speech. It was to be man to man then, after all. If he was to secure Mortimer and the rest of the gang that night, he must do it on his own. He could not hope for aid.
The prospect did not affright him. If Mortimer could have seen the other's eyes at that moment he might have remarked a light dancing in them that was not solely of Messrs. Pommery and Greno's manufacture.
"If I had known you wanted to use the instrument, my dear fellow," Mortimer continued in his bland voice, "I should certainly have waited until you had done your business!""Pray don't mention it," replied Desmond, "you do well to be prudent, Mr. Mortimer!"Mortimer shot a sudden glance at him. Desmond met it with a frank, easy smile.
"I'm a devil for prudence myself!" he observed brightly.
