Jimmy now knew⁠—or could have known had he been paying attention⁠—many interesting details relating to steel; but he had found nothing of what he wanted⁠—a reference to Herr Eberhard’s invention or anything that could give him a clue to the identity of the mysterious No. 7. He had, perhaps, hardly hoped that he would. It was an off-chance and he had taken it⁠—but he had not expected much result⁠—except by sheer luck.

He tested the drawers to make sure that he had relocked them securely. He knew Rupert Bateman’s powers of minute observation and glanced round the room to make sure that he had left no incriminating trace of his presence.

“That’s that,” he muttered to himself softly. “Nothing there. Well, perhaps I’ll have better luck tomorrow morning⁠—if the girls only play up.”