“You are right, Caterham. You have called in the local police, you say? That will not do. We must have Battle.”

“Battle, murder and sudden death,” inquired Lord Caterham, with a puzzled face.

“No, no, you misunderstand me. I referred to Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard. A man of the utmost discretion. He worked with us in that deplorable business of the Party Funds.”

“What was that?” asked Lord Caterham, with some interest.

But George’s eye had fallen upon Bundle, as she sat half in and half out of the window, and he remembered discretion just in time. He rose.

“We must waste no time. I must send off some wires at once.”

“If you write them out, Bundle will send them through the telephone.”