Joyce laughed softly.  “Oh,” she said; “I’ve such lots to tell you, I hardly know where to start.”

I ran the boat alongside the Betty, and we both climbed on board.

“Suppose we start by having some tea,” I suggested.  “I’m dying for a cup.”

“You poor dear,” said Joyce.  “Of course you shall have one.  You can read what Tommy says while I’m getting it ready.”

She fetched the letter out of the cabin, and sitting in the well I proceeded to decipher the three foolscap pages of hieroglyphics which Tommy is pleased to describe as his handwriting.  As far as I could make out they ran as follows: 

“MY DEAR NEIL,

“I suppose I oughtn’t to begin like that, in case somebody else got hold of the letter.  It doesn’t matter really, however, because Joyce is bringing it down, and you can tear the damn thing up as soon as you’ve read it.

“Well, I’ve seen Latimer.  I wrote to him directly I got back, reminded him who I was, and told him I wanted to have a chat with him about some very special private business.  He asked me to come round to his rooms in Jermyn Street last night at ten o’clock, and I was there till pretty near midnight.

“I thought I was bound to find out something, but good Lord, Neil, it came off in a way I’d never dared hope for.  Practically speaking, I’ve got to the bottom of the whole business—­at least so far as Latimer’s concerned.  You see he either had to explain or else tell me to go to the devil, and as he thought I was a perfectly safe sort of chap to be honest with, he decided to make a clean breast of it.

“To start with, it’s very much what we suspected.  Latimer is a Secret Service man, and that’s how he comes to be mixed up in the job.  It seems that some little while ago the Admiralty or one of the other Government departments got it into their heads that there were a number of Germans over in England spying out the land in view of a possible row over this Servian business.  Latimer was told off amongst others to look into the matter.  He had been sniffing around for some weeks without much luck, when more or less by chance he dropped across the track of those two very identical beauties who ran down Gow’s boat in the Thames last Friday.

“Somehow or other they must have got wind of the fact that he was after them, and they evidently made up their minds to get rid of him.  They seem to have set about it rather neatly.  The man with the scar, who is either one of them or else in with them, introduced himself to Latimer as a member of the French Secret Service.  He pretended that he had some special information about the case in hand, and although Latimer was a bit suspicious, he agreed to dine at Parelli’s and hear what the fellow had to say.

“Well, you know the rest of that little incident.  If it hadn’t been for you there’s not the faintest doubt that Latimer would have copped it all right, and I can tell you he’s by way of being rather particularly grateful.  I was specially instructed to send you a message to that effect next time I was writing.