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oh, is he. Tell him it’s only a matter of minutes.” He rang off, and went on drily: “Costain’s getting impatient.”
    â€œI can’t say I blame him,” Palfrey said. “He should be in just about the right mood by now. If I’d come slowly to realise the consequence of the destruction of a whole village, I’d be impatient to know more about it, wouldn’t you?”
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Chapter Four
The Interview
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    As Palfrey stepped into the room, Costain turned from the window. He liked what he saw. The thin face with the high cheekbones, the weather-bronzed skin which made grey eyes seem very bright, the steady gaze, the hooked nose and bow-shaped lips.
    Costain’s faint frown became more one of puzzlement than of annoyance under the scrutiny.
    â€œMr. Costain,” Palfrey said, “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. It was unavoidable, I’m afraid, but that made it no easier for you.” He put out his hand. “My name is Palfrey.”
    As they gripped, Costain breathed as if in echo; “Palfrey.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œOf — Z5?”
    â€œYes,” Palfrey said, smiling. “I was once told that Z5 was the best known secret service in the world!”
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    Palfrey was quite serious when he said that the organisation he led was the ‘best-known secret service in the world’. That was because in a number of acute world crises, where great nations had been held to ransom by megalomaniacs who held temporary but overwhelming power, Z5 had prevented disaster, and so had justified itself in the eyes not only of governments but of peoples. The task of Z5, and so Palfrey’s task, was to seek out evil men who in this age of nuclear power and chemical warfare research could hold a world to ransom.
    The headquarters of Z5 was in London; there were other major offices in Moscow and in Washington. Its agents numbered tens of thousands, mostly men and women working for some other cause, or for industry and commerce; or in the professions. These agents had one common loyalty: to Z5. Here in England Palfrey’s first loyalty was to his organisation, and through it the world. Only after these were served could his beloved England call on his services.
    Time and time again he risked his life in the cause of world security. So did many of his full-time agents; for that matter, many who served through their work and their vocations.
    Some of these things were known to many; no one but Palfrey knew them all.
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    After Palfrey’s mild jest, about Z5 being the best known secret service, there was a pause and a very slight but quite unmistakable change in his manner. “I’m sure you don’t need telling how seriously today’s disaster is being taken,” he said to Costain.
    â€œNo,” replied Costain. “I certainly don’t.”
    â€œNor why there were obvious reasons for wondering why a man who seldom leaves the countryside for London should choose this particular day,” went on Palfrey.
    â€œYou mean—” Costain broke off. “Oh, I see. I could have gone knowing it would happen. I didn’t, of course.”
    â€œWill you tell me why you did go today? It will be in confidence, of course.”
    â€œDr. Palfrey,” said Costain with a faint note of exasperation, “I did not go for an assignation with Mrs. Drummond, and at any other time I would resent the slur on her reputation. But I suppose there isn’t much point in resentment, as things are. You know, I can still hardly believe in the disaster which has taken place.” He broke off again, his expression one of extreme shock and horror. Palfrey was vividly aware of what Devine had meant, as Costain’s eyes half-closed as if some pain made it difficult to open them. He went on: “I am—desperately sorry for Mrs. Drummond and I wish I could help her. The pity of it is that I don’t think I can, any more