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nothing but -- By Jove, look at that!

The garden gate of The Haven had opened and a man had

emerged. There was no mistaking that tall, angular, straggling

figure. It was Ian Murdoch, the mathematician. A moment later

we confronted him upon the road.

Hullo! said Stackhurst. The man nodded, gave us a side-

ways glance from his curious dark eyes, and would have-passed

us, but his principal pulled him up.

What were you doing there? he asked.

Murdoch's face flushed with anger. I am your subordinate,

sir, under your roof. I am not aware that I owe you any account

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