CHAPTER XV

MR. LLEWELLYN JOHN BECOMES ALARMED

I

Mr. Llewellyn John was obviously troubled. With the forefinger of his right hand he tapped the table meditatively as he gazed straight in front of him. The disappearance of John Dene was proving an even greater source of embarra.s.sment to the War Cabinet than the internment of aliens. The member of parliament who translated his duty to his const.i.tuents into asking as many awkward questions as possible of the Government, found a rich source of inspiration in the affaire John Dene.

Mr. Llewellyn John disliked questions; but never had he shown so whole-hearted an antipathy for interrogation as in the case of John Dene. The fact of the Home Secretary being responsible for the answers const.i.tuted an additional embarra.s.sment, as Sir Roger Flynn was frankly critical of his chief in regard to the disappearance of John Dene. He had not been consulted in the matter of offering a reward, as he should have been, and he was piqued.

His answers to the questions that seemed to rain down upon him from all parts of the House were given in anything but a conciliatory tone, and the method he adopted of "dispatching them in batches like rebels," as Mr. Chappeldale put it, still further alienated from the Government the sympathy of the more independent members. In this Mr. Llewellyn John saw a smouldering menace that might at any time burst into flame.

He had come to wish with deep-rooted earnestness that Sir Roger Flynn would take a holiday. He had even gone to the length of suggesting that the Home Secretary was not looking altogether himself; but Sir Roger had not risen to the bait.

"Ah! here you are," cried Mr. Llewellyn John with a smile, that in no way mirrored the state of his feelings, as Sir Roger entered, and with a nod dropped into a chair.

"Eight more questions on the paper," he said grimly. "I suppose you appreciate the seriousness of it all."

"What would you suggest doing?" enquired Mr. Llewellyn John tactfully.

"Get a new lock for the stable door now the horse is gone," was the uncompromising retort.

"I've asked Colonel Walton to step round," said Mr. Llewellyn John, ignoring his colleague's remark.

"It's all that fellow Sage," grumbled Sir Roger. "I went round to see him yesterday, and he was as urbane as a money-lender."

"But surely you wouldn't quarrel----"

"I always quarrel with a fool who doesn't see the consequences likely to arise out of his folly," said Sir Roger.

"If he would only play golf," murmured Mr. Llewellyn John plaintively.

"He'd resign at the first green because someone had shouted 'fore.'

The man's a freak!" Sir Roger was very downright this morning.

"I wish we had a few more of the same sort," was Mr. Llewellyn John's smiling rejoinder.

Sir Roger grumbled something in his throat. Malcolm Sage was too often in antagonism with his Department for the Home Secretary to contemplate with anything but alarm a multiplicity of Sages.

Mr. Llewellyn John, who deeply commiserated with those heads of departments who had suffered from Malcolm Sage's temperament, was always anxious to keep him from coming into direct touch with other Ministers: the invariable result was a protest from the Minister, and resignation from Malcolm Sage.

Once he had been summoned before the War Cabinet to expound and explain a certain rather complicated enquiry in connection with a missing code-book. Before he had been in the room five minutes he had resigned.

At Scotland Yard he was known as "Sage and Onions," the feebleness of the _jeu d'esprit_ being to some extent mitigated by the venom with which it was uttered. Nothing short of the anti-criminal traditions of the Yard had saved Malcolm Sage from a.s.sa.s.sination at the hands of its outraged officials.

His indifference was to them far more galling than contempt. He seemed sublimely unconscious of the fact that he was not popular with the police officials, a circ.u.mstance that merely added to the dislike with which he was regarded.

There was much to be said for Scotland Yard, which was called upon to carry out instructions from "a pack of blinking amachoors," as one of Sage's most p.r.o.nounced antagonists had phrased it. Added to which was the fact that they were dealing with a man who seemed entirely unable to discriminate between courtesy and venomous hatred. Like the German nation, the officials discovered that there was little virtue in a hymn of hate that was not recognised as such.

"It's no good sc.r.a.pping a man because he doesn't keep to your own time-table," said Mr. Llewellyn John, mentally making a note of the phrase for future use.

Sir Roger had remarked that the Prime Minister lay awake half the night coining phrases which would not win the war.

"This John Dene has caused more trouble at the Home Office than all the rest of the war put together." Sir Roger was obviously in a bad temper.

"We must learn to think Imperially, my dear Flynn."

The Home Secretary made a movement of impatience. "There'll be murder at Scotland Yard one of these days," he announced. "That fellow Sage goads the officials there to madness."

"And yet he's so popular with his own men," said Mr. Llewellyn John.

"At Department Z. they would do anything for him."

"Well, I wish they'd do it and keep him there."

Whilst Mr. Llewellyn John and Sir Roger Flynn were discussing Department Z., Colonel Walton was seated at his table drawing diagrams upon the blotting paper, and Malcolm Sage sat opposite, engaged in the never-ending examination of his finger-nails.

"The Skipper's got the wind up, Sage," said Colonel Walton.

"I expected as much."

"I've got to go round there in a quarter of an hour. Sir Roger's trying to force his hand."

"Let him," said Malcolm Sage.

Colonel Walton shook his head with a smile. "That's all very well, Sage; but it isn't the language of diplomacy."

"Ours isn't the department of diplomacy, chief. Why not promise him something dramatic in a few weeks' time? That's bound to appeal to him." For a moment a fugitive smile flittered across Sage's features.

"I think," he added, "we shall surprise him."

"In the meantime we must be diplomatic," said Colonel Walton. "That's why I'm not taking you with me this morning."

"You think I'd resign," queried Sage with an odd movement at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm sure of it," was the response, as Colonel Walton rose. "I suppose you know," he continued, "that Scotland Yard is absolutely congested.

You can have no idea of what Sir Roger said when I met him in Whitehall yesterday."

"If it's anything at all like what comes through to me----" and Malcolm Sage shrugged his shoulders.

Ten minutes later Colonel Walton was shown into Mr. Llewellyn John's room.

"Ah! here you are," cried Mr. Llewellyn John, as he motioned Colonel Walton to a seat. "Is there any news?"

"None, sir," was the response.

"This is getting very serious, Walton," said Mr. Llewellyn John, "something really must be done."

"Have you tried Scotland Yard, sir?" asked Colonel Walton evenly, looking across at Sir Roger, who made a movement as if to speak, but evidently thought better of it.