10 o'clock
said Barbara , wonderingly . At half-past eight the next morning Desmond Okewood found himself in the ante-room of the Chief of the Secret Service in a cross and puzzled mood . The telephone at his bedside had roused him at 8 a.m. from the first sleep he had had in a real bed for two months . In a drowsy voice he had protested that he had an appointment at the War Office at 10 o'clock , but a curt voice had bidden him dress himself and come to the Chief forthwith . Here he was , accordingly , breakfastless , his chin smarting from a hasty shave . What the devil did the Chief want with him anyhow ? He was n't in the Secret Service , though his brother , Francis , was .