It's that skunk Fenn
who's responsible. Damn him!"
"Nicholas Fenn, the pacifist!" Julian exclaimed. "So you take
vermin like that into your councils!"
"You can't call him too hard a name for me at this moment," Furley
muttered.
"Nicholas Fenn," Julian repeated, with a new light in his eyes.
"Why, the cable I censored was to him! So he's the arch traitor!"
"Nicholas Fenn is in it;" Furley admitted, "although I deny that
there's any treason whatever in the affair."
"Don't talk nonsense!" Julian replied. "What about your German
hairdresser who was shot this morning?"
"It was a mistake to make use of him," Furley confessed. "Fenn
has deceived us all as to the method of our communications. But
listen, Julian. You'll be able to get Miss Abbeway out of this?"
"If I don't," Julian replied, "I shall be in it myself, for I've
lied myself black in the face already."
"You're a man, for all the starch in you, Julian," Furley
declared. "If anything were to happen to that girl, I'd wring
Fenn's neck."
"I think she's safe for the present," Julian pronounced. "You
see, she isn't in possession of the incriminating document. I
took it from her when she was in danger of arrest."
"What are you going to do with it?"
"You can't have much doubt about that," was the composed reply.
"I shall go to town to-morrow and hand it over to the proper
authorities."
Julian rose to his feet as he spoke. Furley looked at him
helplessly.
"How in heaven's name, man," he groaned, "shall I be able to make
you see the truth!"
A touch of the winter sunlight was upon Julian's face which,
curiously enough, at that moment resembled his father's in its
cold, patrician lines.
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