“And no wonder!” Norgate declared.  “If this weren’t really a serious affair, Hardy, I should be inclined to make a little humorous use of you.  That isn’t what I want now, though.  Listen.  Put on one of my black overcoats and a silk hat, get the man to call you a taxi up to the door, and drive to Smith’s Hotel.  You will enquire for the suite of the Baroness von Haase.  The Baroness will allow you to remain in her rooms for half an hour.  At the end of that time you will return here, change your clothes, and await any further orders.”

“Very good, sir,” the man replied.

“Help yourself to cigarettes,” Norgate invited, passing the box across.  “Do the thing properly.  Sit well back in the taxicab, although I’m hanged if I think that my friend Boko stands an earthly.  Plenty of money in your pocket?”

“Plenty, thank you, sir.”

The man left the room, and Norgate, after a brief delay, followed his example.  A glance up and down the courtyard convinced him that Boko had disappeared.  He jumped into a taxi, gave an address in Belgrave Square, and within a quarter of an hour was ushered into the presence of Mr. Spencer Wyatt, who was seated at a writing-table covered with papers.

“Mr. Norgate, isn’t it?” the latter remarked briskly.  “I had Mr. Hebblethwaite’s note, and I am very pleased to give you five minutes.  Sit down, won’t you, and fire away.”

“Did Mr. Hebblethwaite give you any idea as to what I wanted?” Norgate asked.

“Better read his note,” the other replied, pushing it across the table with a little smile.

Norgate took it up and read:—­

“My dear Spencer Wyatt,

“A young friend of mine, Francis Norgate, who has been in the Diplomatic Service for some years and is home just now from Berlin under circumstances which you may remember, has asked me to give him a line of introduction to you which will secure him an interview during to-day.  Here is that line.  Norgate is a young man for whom I have a great friendship.  I consider him possessed of unusual intelligence and many delightful gifts, but, like many others of us, he is a crank.  You can listen with interest to anything he may have to say to you, unless he speaks of Germany.  That’s his weak point.  On any other subject he is as sane as the best of us.

“Many thanks.  Certainly I am coming to the Review.  We are all looking forward to it immensely.

“Ever yours,

“JOHN W. HEBBLETHWAITE.”

Norgate set down the letter.

“There are two points of view, Mr. Spencer Wyatt,” he said, “as to Germany.  Mr. Hebblethwaite believes that I am an alarmist.  I know that I am not.  This isn’t any ordinary visit of mine.  I have come to see you on the most urgent matter which any one could possibly conceive.  I have come to give you the chance to save our country from the worst disaster that has ever befallen her.”

Mr. Spencer Wyatt looked at his visitor steadily.  His eyebrows had drawn a little closer together.  He remained silent, however.