“I look upon that statement as misleading and untrue,” the Minister declared.  “Your late uncle belonged to that mischievous section of foreign politicians who believed in secret treaties and secret service, and who fostered a state of nervous unrest between countries otherwise disposed to be friendly.  We have turned over a new leaf, Lord Dorminster.  Our efforts are all directed towards developing an international spirit of friendliness and trust.”

“Utopian but very short-sighted,” Nigel commented.  “If my uncle had lived to finish decoding the report upon which he was engaged, I could have offered you proof not only of the existence of the spirit I speak of, but of certain practical schemes inimical to this country.”

“The papers you speak of have disappeared,” Mr. Mervin Brown observed, with a smile.

“They were taken away by the person who murdered my uncle,” Nigel insisted.

The Right Honourable gentleman nodded.

“Well, you know my views about the affair,” he said.  “I may add that they are confirmed by the police.  I am in no way prejudiced, however, and am willing to listen to anything you may have to say which will not take you more than a quarter of an hour,” he added, glancing at the clock upon his table.

“Here goes, then,” Nigel began.  “My uncle was a statesman of the old school who had no faith in the Utopian programme of the present Government of this country.  When you abandoned any pretence of a continental secret service, he at his own expense instituted a small one of his own.  He sent two men out to Germany and one to Russia.  The one sent to Russia was the man Sidwell, whose murder in a Petrograd cafe you may have read of.  Of the two sent to Germany, one has disappeared, and the other died in hospital, without a doubt poisoned, a few days after he had sent the report to England which was stolen from my uncle’s desk.  That report was brought over by Lady Maggie Trent, Lord Dorminster’s stepdaughter, who was really the brains of the enterprise and under another name was acting as governess to the children of Herr Essendorf, President of the German Republic.  Half an hour before his death, my uncle was decoding this dispatch in his library.  I saw him doing it, and I saw the dispatch itself.  He told me that so far as he had gone already, it was full of information of the gravest import; that a definite scheme was already being formulated against this country by an absolutely unique and dangerous combination of enemies.”

“Those enemies being?”

Nigel shook his head.

“That I can only surmise,” he replied.  “My uncle had only commenced to decode the dispatch when I last saw him.”

“Then I gather, Lord Dorminster,” the Minister said, “that you connect your uncle’s death directly with the supposed theft of this document?”

“Absolutely!”

“And the conclusion you arrive at, then?”

“Is an absolutely logical one,” Nigel declared firmly.  “I assert that other countries are not falling into line with our lamentable abnegation of all secret service defence, and that, in plain words, my uncle was murdered by an agent of one of these countries, in order that the dispatch which had come into his hands should not be decoded and passed on to your Government.”