"Conyers!" Thomson interrupted.

The young man paused in his sentence. Thomson was looking towards
him with a slight frown upon his forehead.

"Don't think I'm a fearful old woman," he said. "I know we are all
rather fed up with these tales of spies and that sort of thing, but
do you think it's wise to even open your lips about a certain
matter?"

"What the dickens do you know about it?" Conyers demanded.

"Nothing," Thomson assured him hastily, "nothing at all. I am only
going by what you said yourself. If there is any device on the
_Scorpion_ for dealing with these infernal craft, I'd never breathe a
word about it, if I were you. I'd put out to sea with a seal upon my
lips, even before Geraldine here and Miss Moreton."

The young man's cheeks were a little flushed.

"Perhaps you're right," he admitted. "I was a little over-excited.
To get the _Scorpion_ was more, even, than I had dared to hope for.
Still, before the girls it didn't seem to matter very much. There are
no spies, anyhow, hiding in the trees of Berkeley Street," he added,
glancing about them.

Thomson held up his finger and stopped a taxicab.

"You won't be annoyed with me, will you?" he said to Conyers. "If