THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS
a spark of light, a minute shade of difference, which means one thing and one thing only. It came involuntarily, for in a moment it died, and he passed on. In a maze of wild fancies I heard the street door close behind him.
I picked up the telephone-book and looked up the number of his house. We were connected at once and I heard a servant's voice.
"Is his lordship at home?" I asked.
"His lordship returned half an hour ago." said the voice, "and has gone to bed. He is not very well to-night. Will you leave a message, sir?"
I rang off and sat down numbly in a chair. My part in this business was not yet ended. It had been a close shave, but I had been in time.
Not a moment could be lost, so I marched boldly to the door of that back room and entered without knocking. Five surprised faces looked up from a round table. There was Sir Walter, and Drew, the war minister, whom I knew from his photographs. There was a slim, elderly man, who was probably
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