"
"He is an Englishman, I suppose?"
"He must be. His accent and manners and appearance are all unmistakable."
"How long was he suspected of being in the pay of our enemies before this
thing transpired?"
"Only a very short time. There was a little gang in New York--Rentoul, the
man who had the wireless in Fifth Avenue, was in it--and they used to meet
at a place in Fourteenth Street, belonging to an old man named Sharey.
That's where Miss Sharey comes into the business. There were some queer
things done there, but they don't concern this business, and New York has
the records of them."
"Jocelyn Thew," Mr. Brown repeated slowly to himself. "Where did you say he
was staying?"
"At the Savoy Court."
Mr. Brown looked fixedly at the cables, fluttering a little in the breeze
which blew in through the half-open window.
"All this isn't very encouraging, Mr. Crawshay," he sighed.
"Up to the present no," the former admitted. "Yet I can promise you one
thing, sir. Those papers shall not leave the country."
"I am glad to hear you speak with so much confidence," Mr. Brown observed
drily. "Mr. Jocelyn Thew seems at any rate to have managed to secrete them
without difficulty."
"That may be so," Crawshay acknowledged, "and yet I am convinced of one
thing.
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