“I have just arrived from Berlin,” Norgate explained.  “Would you care to possess a complete list of German spies in this country?”

Mr. Tyritt’s face was not one capable of showing the most profound emotion.  Nevertheless, he seemed a little taken aback.

“A list of German spies?” he repeated.  “Dear me, that sounds very interesting!”

He took up Norgate’s card and glanced at it.  The action was, in its way, significant.

“You probably don’t know who I am,” Norgate continued.  “I have been in the Diplomatic Service for eight years.  Until a few days ago, I was attached to the Embassy in Berlin.”

Mr. Tyritt was somewhat impressed by the statement.

“Have you any objection to telling me how you became possessed of this information?”

“None whatever,” was the prompt reply.  “You shall hear the whole story.”

Norgate told him, as briefly as possible, of his meeting with Selingman, their conversation, and the subsequent happenings, including the interview which he had overheard on the golf links at Knocke.  When he had finished, there was a brief silence.

“Sounds rather like a page out of a novel, doesn’t it, Mr. Norgate?” the police official remarked at last.

“It may,” Norgate assented drily.  “I can’t help what it sounds like.  It happens to be the exact truth.”

“I do not for a moment doubt it,” the other declared politely.  “I believe, indeed, that there are a large number of Germans working in this country who are continually collecting and forwarding to Berlin commercial and political reports.  Speaking on behalf of my department, however, Mr. Norgate,” he went on, “this is briefly our position.  In the neighbourhood of our naval bases, our dockyards, our military aeroplane sheds, and in other directions which I need not specify, we keep the most scrupulous and exacting watch.  We even, as of course you are aware, employ decoy spies ourselves, who work in conjunction with our friends at Whitehall.  Our system is a rigorous one and our supervision of it unceasing.  But—­and this is a big ‘but’, Mr. Norgate—­in other directions—­so far as regards the country generally, that is to say—­we do not take the subject of German spies seriously.  I may almost say that we have no anxiety concerning their capacity for mischief.”

“Those are the views of your department?” Norgate asked.

“So far as I may be said to represent it, they are,” Mr. Tyritt assented.  “I will venture to say that there are many thousands of letters a year which leave this country, addressed to Germany, purporting to contain information of the most important nature, which might just as well be published in the newspapers.  We ought to know, because at different times we have opened a good many of them.”

“Forgive me if I press this point,” Norgate begged.  “Do you consider that because a vast amount of useless information is naturally sent, that fact lessens the danger as a whole?  If only one letter in a thousand contains vital information, isn’t that sufficient to raise the subject to a more serious level?”