"I was just contrasting in my mind," she said thoughtfully, "some of the Germans whom I have met since the war, with some of the Englishmen. They are taking it very seriously, you know, Mr. Lutchester. They don't find time for luncheon parties or sight-seeing."

"That's just their way," he protested. "They turn themselves into machines. They are what we used to call suckers at school, but you can take my word for it that before next autumn they will be on the run."

"You call them suckers," she observed. "That's because they're always working, always studying, always experimenting. Supposing they got hold of something like this new explosive?"

"First of all," he told her, "I don't believe in it, and secondly, if it exists, the formula isn't in their hands."

"Supposing it is in mine?" she suggested. "I might sell it to them."

"I'd trust you all the time," he laughed lightheartedly. "I can't see you giving a leg up to the Huns.... Will you lunch with me at one o'clock to-morrow, please?"

"Certainly not," she replied. "You must attend to your work, whatever it is."

"That's all very well," he grumbled, "but every one has an hour off for luncheon."

"People who win wars don't lunch," she declared severely. "Here's Jimmy--I can hear his voice--and he's brought some one up with him. I'll--let you know about lunch."

The door opened. James Van Teyl and Fischer entered together.

CHAPTER XIII

The first few seconds after the entrance of the two men were monopolised by the greetings of Pamela with her brother. Fischer stood a little in the background, his eyes fixed upon Lutchester. His brain was used to emergencies, but he found himself here confronted by an unanswerable problem.

"Say, this is Mr. Lutchester, isn't it?" he inquired, holding out his hand.

"The same," Lutchester assented politely. "We met at Henry's some ten days ago, didn't we?"

"Mr. Lutchester has brought us a letter from Dicky Green, Jimmy," Pamela explained, as she withdrew from her brother's arms. "Quite unnecessary, as it happens, because I met him in London just before we sailed."

"Very glad to meet you, Mr. Lutchester," Jimmy declared, wringing his hand with American cordiality. "Dicky's an old pal of mine--one of the best. We graduated in the same year from Harvard."

Conversation for a few minutes was platitudinous. Van Teyl, although he showed few signs of his recent excesses, was noisy and boisterous, clutching at this brief escape from a situation which he dreaded. Fischer on the other hand, remained in the back-ground, ominously silent, thinking rapidly, speculating and theorising as to the coincidence, if it were coincidence, of finding Lutchester and Pamela together. He listened to the former's polite conversation, never once letting his eyes wander from his face. All his thoughts were concentrated upon one problem. The mysterious escape of Sandy Graham, which had sent him flying from the country, remained unsolved. Of Pamela's share in it he had already his suspicions. Was it possible that Lutchester was the other and the central figure in that remarkable rescue? He waited his opportunity, and, during a momentary lull in the cheerful conversation, broke in with his first question.

"Say, Mr. Lutchester, you haven't any twin brother, have you?"

"No brother at all," Lutchester admitted.