Free The Dark Palace--Murder and mystery in London, 1914 by R.N. Morris Page A

been rattled by Inchball’s seeing Hartmann, and overhearing their conversation, he was determined not to show it. As Inchball knew from experience, that forced cheerfulness was the clearest indicator of guilt.
    Well, the guv’nor would eat his words now. This had been far from a wasted trip. He had witnessed the handing over of suspicious documents and he had a glimpse of the man who really did seem to be the spy master of Dortmunder’s cell.
    And if the scent of the rich, warm foam that was being worked into his cheek was anything to go by, he was about to have a very good shave indeed.

ELEVEN
    T he camera arrived the following Monday. Quinn had to admit he was amazed. In the normal run of things, procurements took longer than this.
    Macadam, of course, was beside himself with pleasure as he unpacked the camera. To Quinn’s eye, the Empire Number Two was a rather unprepossessing object: a plain-looking oblong box made of some indeterminate wood with a number of metal fittings. ‘Ooh, there’s some weight in that.’ There was a note of personal pride in Macadam’s voice as he hefted it, as if he had played some part in making the camera so heavy. ‘That’s the quality of the manufacturing for you.’ He proceeded to demonstrate at some length the numerous virtues of the camera, opening and closing its various compartments, pointing out the precision of the engineering, looking through the eye piece, turning the crank, adjusting whatever knobs would allow themselves to be adjusted.
    Quinn caught Inchball’s eye at the height of its exasperated roll.
    â€˜You see, sir, focusing is done from the front and the back. The lens is a Zeiss Tessar, with a focal ratio of F6.3, which should serve us well in the conditions under which we shall be using it.’
    â€˜What did you say?’ Inchball sat up sharply. His tone was dark and laden with suspicion. His brows contracted in a watchful frown. This was a man alert to every danger the nation faced.
    â€˜F6.3. It’s commonly known as the f-number, although I prefer to call it the focal ratio.’
    â€˜No, before that. The lens. Wha’ did you call it?’
    â€˜A Zeiss Tessar.’
    â€˜German, is it?’
    â€˜Well, the lens is, yes. The Germans manufacture excellent optical equipment. Zeiss lenses in particular are considered to be the very best available. Rather more expensive than other lenses, but considering the importance of the work we will be undertaking, I felt that it was worth it.’
    â€˜I don’t trust it.’
    â€˜What?’ Macadam flashed a look of appeal towards Quinn, which Quinn did his best not to notice.
    â€˜Get rid of it,’ insisted Inchball.
    â€˜You are joking!’
    â€˜It’s unpatriotic. We should have an English lens on there. Besides, what if it’s a dud?’
    â€˜What on earth are you talking about? How could it possibly be a dud? Zeiss lenses are the best in the world.’
    â€˜The Germans, righ’, they’re plannin’ to invade us, righ’? So … no, hear me out … there’s all sorts of things we get from Germany. These lenses is jus’ one example. But wha’ they do, righ’, is deliberately send over ’ere a load of substandard merchandise. A load of crap, basically. Not jus’ these lenses. Everythin’. Bicycles, motor cars – I dunno. You name it. Tyres.’
    â€˜Tyres?’
    â€˜Yeah, tyres. That would be your main one, that. So … righ’ … when the moment of truth comes, and we need to use any of this stuff we’ve bough’ from them, it all breaks down. All the tyres go flat. Nothin’ works – nothin’ we got from Germany. So while we’re all distracted tryin’ ’a fix it all – that’s when they strike. Get us at our weakest. It’s all part of their plan.’
    â€˜Zeiss. Lenses. Are. The best. In the world!’