ThetwomenwhoweresuppingtogetherinthegriliroomattheCafeMilanweretalkingwithaseriousnesswhichseemedalittleoutofkeepingwiththerose-shadedlampsandtheswayingmusicofthebandfromthedistantrestaurant。Theirconversationhadstartedsomehoursbeforeintheclubsmoking-roomandhadcontinuedintermittentlythroughouttheevening。IthadreceivedafurtherstimuluswhenRichardHamel，whohadboughtanEveningStandardontheirwayfromthetheatreafewminutesago，cameacrossacertainparagraphinitwhichhereadaloud。
“HangedifIunderstandthingsoverhere，nowadays，Reggie！“hedeclared，layingthepaperdown。“Here’sanotherEnglishmanimprisonedinGermany-thistimeataplacenooneeverheardofbefore。Iwon’ttrytopronounceit。Whatdoesitallmean？It’sallverywelltoshrugyourshoulders，butwhenthereareeighteenarrestswithinoneweekonachargeofespionage，theremustbesomethingup。“
ForthefirsttimeReginaldKinsleyseemedinclinedtodiscussthesubjectseriously。Hedrewthepapertowardshimandreadthelittleparagraph，wordbyword。Thenhegavesomefurtherordertoanattentivemaitred’hotelandglancedaroundtobesurethattheywerenotoverheard。
“Lookhere，Dick，oldchap，“hesaid，“youarejustbackfromabroadandyouarenotquiteinthehangofthingsyet。Letmeaskyouaplainquestion。Whatdoyouthinkofusall？“
“Thinkofyou？“Hamelrepeated，alittledoubtfully。“Doyoumeanpersonally？“