paper.

"They're there, sir," he announced, "coaled to the scuppers, every man
standing to stations and steam up. There's the list."

He handed the paper across to Sir Henry, who glanced it down.

"The fast cruiser squadron," he observed. "Hm! Three new ships we
haven't any note of. No transports, then, Horridge?'"

"Not a sign of one, sir," was the reply. "They're after a bombardment."

He rose to his feet, walked to a giant map of England, and touched a
certain port on the east coast. Sir Henry's eyes glistened.

"You're sure?"

"It is a certainty," Horridge replied. "I've been on three of those
ships. I've dined with four of the officers. They're under sealed
orders, and the crew believes that they're going to escort out half
a dozen commerce destroyers. But I have the truth. That's their
objective," Horridge repeated, touching once more the spot upon the map,
"and they are waiting just for one thing."

Sir Henry smiled thoughtfully.

"I know what they're waiting for," he said. "Perhaps if they'd a Herr
Horridge to send over here for it, they'd have got it before now. As
it is--well, I'm not sure," he went on. "It seems a pity to disappoint
them, doesn't it? I'd love to give them a run for their money."

Horridge smiled faintly. He knew a good deal about his companion.

"They're spoiling for it, sir," he admitted. Sir Henry spoke down a
telephone and a few minutes later Ensol reappeared.

"Find Mr. Horridge a comfortable room," his chief directed, "and one of
our confidential typists. You can make out your report at your leisure,"
he went on. "Come in and see me when it's all finished."

"Certainly, sir," Horridge replied, rising.

Sir Henry held out his hand. He looked with something like wonder at
the nerve-shattered man who had risen to his feet with a certain air of
briskness.

"Horridge," he said, "I wish I had your pluck."

"I don't know any one in the service from whom you need borrow any,
sir," was the quiet reply.

CHAPTER XIX

Lessingham sat upon a fallen tree on Dutchman's Common near the scene
of his romantic descent, and looked rather ruefully over the moorland,
seawards. Above him, the sky was covered with little masses of quickly
scudding clouds. A fugitive and watery sunshine shone feebly upon a
wind-tossed sea and a rain-sodden landscape. He found a certain grim
satisfaction in comparing the disorderliness of the day with the tumult
in his own life. He felt that he had em