he rose and switched off the radio

A maid-servant was at the door. "If you please, sir, Mr. Kindell has called, and would like to see you " "Kindell, Rachel? . . . Oh, yes. I will see the young man. As the girl withdrew, he rose and switched off the radio. "Ruth," he said to his wife, who was already preparing to leave the room, "I don t think you'll want to stay. . . . Nor you, Myra." He waited for the moment that must pass before his wife left, and continued: "This is an occasion on which discretion of speech is imperative. Extreme discretion. You had better leave it entirely to me." Myra rose also, though with less readiness than her aunt, who, besides that she was a professional invalid, which is an exacting occupation, always made it clear that she took no interest in her husband's business affairs. But Myra had no doubt of her own capacity to avoid indiscretions of speech, and would have been interested to hear a conversation which her uncle, she did not doubt, would be able to lead in his own way. Curiosity urged her to remain. But there was no time to argue, and the idea of refusing obedience did not enter her mind. Rather sulkily she withdrew and Professor Blinkwell was alone when Kindell entered the room. The Professor led the conversation at once. He grasped his visitor's hand with his maximum of cordiality as he said suavely: "This is an unexpected pleasure. I must congratulate you upon having convinced the S?ret? that you were not involved in that dreadful crime - as it is easy to see that you must have done, or you would not be in London now." In the brief period which he had had for reflection as he had been driven from Scotland Yard to the Professor's door, Kindell had decided that the time for caution had gone. He did not know in what peril Irene might be, nor how great might be the importance of time.