Okewood of the Secret Service

OKEWOOD OF THE SECRET SERVICE by Valentine Williams
(pseud. Douglas Valentine)

CONTENTS
I. THE DEPUTY TURN
II. CAPTAIN STRANGWISE ENTERTAINS A GUEST
III. MR. MACKWAYTE MEETS AN OLD FRIEND
IV. MAJOR OKEWOOD ENCOUNTERS A NEW TYPE
V. THE MURDER AT SEVEN KINGS
VI. "NAME O'BARNEY"
VII. NUR-EL-DIN
VIII. THE WHITE PAPER PACKAGE
IX. METAMORPHOSIS
X. D. O. R. A. IS BAFFLED
XI. CREDENTIALS
XII. AT THE MILL HOUSE
XIII. WHAT SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES REVEALED
XIV. BARBARA TAKES A HAND
XV. MR. BELLWARD IS CALLED TO THE TELEPHONE
XVI. THE STAR OF POLAND
XVII. MR. BELLWARD ARRANGES A BRIDGE EVENING
XVIII. THE GATHERING OF THE SPIES
XIX. THE UNINVITED GUEST
XX. THE ODD MAN
XXI. THE BLACK VELVET TOQUE
XXII. WHAT THE CELLAR REVEALED
XXIII. MRS. MALPLAQUET GOES DOWN TO THE CELLAR
XXIV. THE TWO DESERTERS
XXV. TO MRS. MALPLAQUET'S
XXVI. THE MAN IN THE SUMMER HOUSE
XXVII. THE RED LACQUER ROOM
XXVIII. AN OFFER FROM STRANGWISE
XXIX. DOT AND DASH
XXX. HOHENLINDEN TRENCH
XXXI. THE 100,000 POUND KIT
CHAPTER I.
THE DEPUTY TURN
Mr. Arthur Mackwayte slipped noiselessly into the dining-room and took his place at the table. He always moved quietly, a look of gentle deprecation on his face as much as to say: "Really, you know, I can't help being here: if you will just overlook me this time, by and by you won't notice I'm there at all!" That was how he went through life, a shy, retiring little man, quiet as a mouse, gentle as a dove, modesty personified.
That is, at least, how Mr. Arthur Mackwayte struck his friends in private life. Once a week, however, he fairly screamed at the public from the advertisement columns of "The Referee": "Mackwayte, in his Celebrated Kerbstone Sketches. Wit! Pathos! Tragedy!!! The Epitome of London Life. Universally Acclaimed as the Greatest Portrayer of London Characters since the late Chas. Dickens. In Tremendous Demand for Public Dinners. The Popular Favorite. A Few Dates still Vacant. 23, Laleham Villas, Seven Kings. 'Phone" and so on.
But only professionally did Mr. Mackwayte thus blow his own trumpet, and then in print alone. For the rest, he had nothing great about him but his heart. A long and bitter struggle for existence had left no hardness in his smooth-shaven flexible face, only wrinkles. His eyes were gray and keen and honest, his mouth as tender as a woman's.
His daughter, Barbara, was already at table pouring out the tea--high tea is still an institution in music-hall circles. Mr. Mackwayte always gazed on this tall, handsome daughter of his with amazement as the great miracle of his life. He looked at her now fondly and thought how.... how distinguished, yes, that was the word, she looked in the trim blue serge suit in which she went daily to her work at the War Office.
"Rations a bit slender to-night, daddy, she said, handing him his cup of tea, "only sardines and bread and butter and cheese. Our meatless day, eh?"
"It'll do very well for me, Barbara, my dear," he answered in his gentle voice, "there have been times when your old dad was glad enough to get a cup of tea and a bite of bread and butter for his supper. And there's many a one worse off than we are today!"
"Any luck at the agent's, daddy?"
Mr. Mackwayte shook his head.
"These revues are fair killing the trade, my dear, and that's a fact. They don't want art to-day, only rag-time and legs and all that. Our people are being cruelly hit by it and that's a fact. Why, who do you think I ran into at Harris' this morning? Why, Barney who used to work with the great Charles, you know, my dear. For years he drew his ten pound a week regular. Yet there he was, looking for a job the same as the rest of us. Poor fellow, he was down on his luck!"
Barbara looked up quickly.
"Daddy, you lent him money...."
Mr. Mackwayte looped extremely uncomfortable.
"Only a trifle, my dear, just a few shillings.... to take him over the week-end.... he's getting something.... he'll repay me, I feel sure...."
"It's too bad of you, daddy," his daughter said severely. "I gave you that ten shillings to buy yourself a bottle of whiskey. You know he won't pay you back. That Barney's a bad egg!"
"Things are going bad with the profession, replied Mr. Mackwayte. "They don't seem to want any of us old stagers today, Barbara!"
"Now, daddy, you know I don't allow you to talk like that. Why, you are only just finished working.... the Samuel Circuit, too!"
Barbara looked up at the old man quickly.
"Only, four weeks' trial, my dear.... they didn't want me, else they would have given me the full forty weeks. No, I expect I am getting past my work. But it's hard on you child...."
Barbara sprang up and placed her hand across her father's mouth.
"I won't have you talk like that, Mac"--that was her pet name for him--"you've worked hard all your life and now it's my turn. Men have had