reckon some one put them wise—and not earlier than Sunday afternoon."
"Yes, but who?"
"That almighty omniscient Mr. Brown, of course!"
There was a faint note of derision in the American's voice which made Sir James look up sharply.
"You don't believe in Mr. Brown, Mr. Hersheimmer?"
"No, sir, I do not," returned the young American with emphasis. "Not as such, that is to say. I reckon it out that he's a figurehead—just a bogy name to frighten the children with. The real head of this business is that Russian chap Kramenin. I guess he's quite capable of running revolutions in three countries at once if he chose! The man Whittington is probably the head of the English branch."
"I disagree with you," said Sir James shortly. "Mr. Brown exists." He turned to Tommy. "Did you happen to notice where that wire was handed in?"
"No, sir, I'm afraid I didn't."
"H'm. Got it with you?"
"It's upstairs, sir, in my kit."
"I'd like to have a look at it sometime. No hurry. You've wasted a week"—Tommy hung his head—"a day or so more is immaterial. We'll deal with Miss Jane Finn first. Afterwards, we'll set to work to rescue Miss Tuppence from bondage. I don't think she's in any immediate danger. That is, so long as they don't know that we've got Jane Finn, and that her memory has returned. We must keep that dark at all costs. You understand?"
The other two assented, and, after making arrange-
