“Captain Granet will be with you in a few moments, sir,” he announced.

“Please ask him not to hurry,” Major Thomson begged.

“Certainly, sir.”

The man withdrew and once more Thomson and the dog were alone.  The latter, having made a few overtures of friendship which passed unnoticed, resumed his slumbers.  Major Thomson sat upright in his easy-chair, an illustrated paper in his hand.  All the time, however, his eyes seemed to be searching the room.  His sense of listening was obviously quickened; he had the air, even, of thinking rapidly.  Five—­ten minutes passed.  Then voices were heard from within and the door was suddenly opened.  Captain Granet emerged and crossed the room, hobbling slightly towards his visitor.

“Awfully sorry to keep you like this,” he remarked pleasantly.  “The fact is I’d just got into my bath.”

“I ought to apologise,” his visitor replied, “for calling at such a time.”

“Glad to see you, anyway,” the other declared, pausing at his smoking-cabinet and bringing out some cigarettes.  “Try one of these, won’t you?”

“Not just now, thanks.”

There was a moment’s pause.  Major Thomson seemed in no hurry to explain himself.

“Jolly luncheon party, wasn’t it?” Granet remarked, lighting a cigarette for himself with some difficulty.  “What an idiot it makes a fellow feel to be strapped up like this!”

“From what one reads of the fighting around Ypres,” the other replied, “you were lucky to get out of it so well.  Let me explain, if I may, why I have paid you this rather untimely call.”

Captain Granet nodded amiably.  He had made himself comfortable in an easy-chair and was playing with the dog, who had jumped on to his knee.

“I had some conversation on Thursday last,” Major Thomson began, “with the Provost-Marshal of Boulogne.  As you, of course, know, we have suffered a great deal, especially around Ypres, from the marvellous success of the German Intelligence Department.  The Provost-Marshal, who is a friend of mine, told me that there was a special warning out against a person purporting to be an American chaplain who had escaped from Belgium.  You don’t happen to have heard of him, I suppose, do you?”

Captain Granet looked doubtful.

“Can’t remember that I have,” he replied.  “They’ve been awfully clever, those fellows, though.  The last few nights before our little scrap they knew exactly what time our relief parties came along.  Several times we changed the hour.  No use!  They were on to us just the same.”

Major Thompson nodded.

“Well,” he continued, “I happened to catch sight of a man who exactly resembled the photograph which my friend the Provost-Marshal showed me, only a few minutes ago, and although I could not be sure of it, I fancied that he entered this building.  It occurred to me that he might be paying a call upon you.”

“Upon me?” he repeated.