I looked only at Ivery.  His face had gone very pale, and his eyes were wandering.  I am certain his brain was working at lightning speed, but he was a rat in a steel trap and the springs held him.  If ever I saw a man going through hell it was now.  His pasteboard castle had crumbled about his ears and he was giddy with the fall of it.  The man was made of pride, and every proud nerve of him was caught on the raw.

‘So much for ordinary business,’ said Blenkiron.  ’There’s the matter of a certain lady.  You haven’t behaved over-nice about her, Graf, but I’m not going to blame you.  You maybe heard a whistle blow when you were coming in here?  No!  Why, it sounded like Gabriel’s trump.  Peter must have put some lung power into it.  Well, that was the signal that Miss Mary was safe in your car . . . but in our charge.  D’you comprehend?’

He did.  The ghost of a flush appeared in his cheeks.

’You ask about General Hannay?  I’m not just exactly sure where Dick is at the moment, but I opine he’s in Italy.’

I kicked aside the screen, thereby causing Amos almost to fall on his face.

‘I’m back,’ I said, and pulled up an arm-chair, and dropped into it.

I think the sight of me was the last straw for Ivery.  I was a wild enough figure, grey with weariness, soaked, dirty, with the clothes of the porter Joseph Zimmer in rags from the sharp rocks of the Schwarzsteinthor.  As his eyes caught mine they wavered, and I saw terror in them.  He knew he was in the presence of a mortal enemy.

‘Why, Dick,’ said Blenkiron with a beaming face, ’this is mighty opportune.  How in creation did you get here?’

‘I walked,’ I said.  I did not want to have to speak, for I was too tired.  I wanted to watch Ivery’s face.

Blenkiron gathered up his Patience cards, slipped them into a little leather case and put it in his pocket.

’I’ve one thing more to tell you.  The Wild Birds have been summoned home, but they won’t ever make it.  We’ve gathered them in—­Pavia, and Hofgaard, and Conradi.  Ehrlich is dead.  And you are going to join the rest in our cage.’

As I looked at my friend, his figure seemed to gain in presence.  He sat square in his chair with a face like a hanging judge, and his eyes, sleepy no more, held Ivery as in a vice.  He had dropped, too, his drawl and the idioms of his ordinary speech, and his voice came out hard and massive like the clash of granite blocks.

’You’re at the bar now, Graf von Schwabing.  For years you’ve done your best against the decencies of life.  You have deserved well of your country, I don’t doubt it.  But what has your country deserved of the world?  One day soon Germany has to do some heavy paying, and you are the first instalment.’

’I appeal to the Swiss law.  I stand on Swiss soil, and I demand that I be surrendered to the Swiss authorities.’  Ivery spoke with dry lips and the sweat was on his brow.