“Look here, you’ve no business to come asking for me in this way.  I thought that was distinctly understood?”

“It was, sir.  But I judged it important to lose no time.”

And as briefly and succinctly as possible he detailed the experiences of the last few days.

Half-way through, Mr. Carter interrupted him to give a few cryptic orders through the telephone.  All traces of displeasure had now left his face.  He nodded energetically when Tommy had finished.

“Quite right.  Every moment’s of value.  Fear we shall be too late anyway.  They wouldn’t wait.  Would clear out at once.  Still, they may have left something behind them that will be a clue.  You say you’ve recognized Number 1 to be Kramenin?  That’s important.  We want something against him badly to prevent the Cabinet falling on his neck too freely.  What about the others?  You say two faces were familiar to you?  One’s a Labour man, you think?  Just look through these photos, and see if you can spot him.”

A minute later, Tommy held one up.  Mr. Carter exhibited some surprise.

“Ah, Westway!  Shouldn’t have thought it.  Poses as being moderate.  As for the other fellow, I think I can give a good guess.”  He handed another photograph to Tommy, and smiled at the other’s exclamation.  “I’m right, then.  Who is he?  Irishman.  Prominent Unionist M.P.  All a blind, of course.  We’ve suspected it—­but couldn’t get any proof.  Yes, you’ve done very well, young man.  The 29th, you say, is the date.  That gives us very little time—­very little time indeed.”

“But——­” Tommy hesitated.

Mr. Carter read his thoughts.

“We can deal with the General Strike menace, I think.  It’s a toss-up—­but we’ve got a sporting chance!  But if that draft treaty turns up—­we’re done.  England will be plunged in anarchy.  Ah, what’s that?  The car?  Come on, Beresford, we’ll go and have a look at this house of yours.”

Two constables were on duty in front of the house in Soho.  An inspector reported to Mr. Carter in a low voice.  The latter turned to Tommy.

“The birds have flown—­as we thought.  We might as well go over it.”

Going over the deserted house seemed to Tommy to partake of the character of a dream.  Everything was just as it had been.  The prison room with the crooked pictures, the broken jug in the attic, the meeting room with its long table.  But nowhere was there a trace of papers.  Everything of that kind had either been destroyed or taken away.  And there was no sign of Annette.

“What you tell me about the girl puzzled me,” said Mr. Carter.  “You believe that she deliberately went back?”

“It would seem so, sir.  She ran upstairs while I was getting. the door open.”

“H’m, she must belong to the gang, then; but, being a woman, didn’t feel like standing by to see a personable young man killed.  But evidently she’s in with them, or she wouldn’t have gone back.”