April nodded. "They're lucky there's no more death penalty in Britain these days," she said.

"And the wife got clean away?"

"Yes, she must have seen the police when they arrived and decided that discretion was the better bet for THRUSH. They haven't seen a sign of her since."

"She wasn't on the sub?"

"No... the sub was boarded by a party from a naval frigate called urgently by the Admiralty from a courtesy visit to Falmouth... but there was no Lady Wright aboard. I guess she'll live to fight another day!"

Mark changed down to third and snarled through the twisting main street of a small village. "What about the mysterious Colonel Forsett — and of course his lady?" he asked.

"Forsett was the chief of the THRUSH Satrap at the Tor. He was called to the Wright home while I was a prisoner there so that he could be warned to keep away that night when the explosion was supposed to occur."

Slate's hands, still bandaged at the wrist after his ordeal being wired to the chair, moved easily and expertly on the wheel. They drifted round a hairpin at the head of a valley, streaked up a long, curving bill, and sped across a straight section traversing a tract of moorland beyond. The Matra-Bonnet's exhaust note settled down to a heady roar. "This has been my day for questions, hasn't it?" he said. "I have just two more, lovey."

"All right then," the girl replied, leaning back and closing her eyes to the sun. "Let's have them."

"One: who did make the Porphyry lighthouses with the secret hole?"

"Mason. They found a wheel in the boathouse at the cove."

"Two: you never did say — where was the missing roll of film? What had Sheila Duncan done with it?"

April Dancer sat up and stared ahead through the wind screen. She sighed. "Sheila Duncan was a very brave girl," she said soberly. "She wasn't a double agent at all, in fact. She only pretended to be so that she could get next the THRUSH Satrap at Trewinnock Tor. Ditto her affair with Wright. I heard from Waverly in New York this morning: the missing roll of microfilm, together with a report on Wright and his activities, arrived on his desk yesterday. Sheila had mailed it just before Wright caught up with her..."

There was a sudden alarming clangor from behind. A large black saloon, with bell trilling, swept past and edged Mark into the side of the road. An illuminated sign on the car's roof spelled out Police.

A big man in uniform got out of the police car and walked ponderously back. He leaned down to Mark's window. It was Superintendent Curnow.

"Well, well, well," he said. "If it isn't Mr. Slate... Good day, Miss. I'll have to trouble you for your driving licence, if you please, sir."

"Oh, good lord!" Slate groaned. "This is murder, Superintendent... and you know the death penalty has been abolished!"

"Just so, sir. But there is a seventy mile an hour speed limit has been imposed by the Minister of Transport. And you were doing a hundred and six."

"Now look," the agent said, "surely you're not going to book me, Superintendent? I mean, after all... after leading you to your murderers... why, it'd be a dead ruddy liberty, that's what it would be!"

The policeman smiled. "That's right, sir," he said, taking out his notebook. "Law... the enforcement of law and order for the public good... that's what liberty is all about, isn't it?"

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE: MURDERER'S SHY

CHAPTER TWO: MARK GETS SET

CHAPTER THREE: THERE'S NO BUSINESS LIKE NO BUSINESS

CHAPTER FOUR: AN OVERSEAS MISSION FOR APRIL

CHAPTER FIVE: IN THE STEPS OF THE DEPARTED

CHAPTER SIX: THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS WRONG

CHAPTER SEVEN: SOMETHING THE TIDE BROUGHT IN…

CHAPTER EIGHT: "ALL THE BEST LIGHTHOUSES ARE HOLLOW!"

CHAPTER NINE: OBSTRUCTIONS AND INTRUSIONS!

CHAPTER TEN: THE JEALOUS YOUNG MAN ON THE FLYING TRAPEZE

CHAPTER ELEVEN: A WALK OVER THE CLIFFS

CHAPTER TWELVE: APRIL'S BAG OF TRICKS

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: ONCE MORE INTO THE BREACH

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: MISS DANCER DOES THE TRICK!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: A DEAD LIBERTY!