believe, is rather more than fifty thousand pounds a
year. I should not enter into these adventures, which naturally are not
entirely dissociated from a certain amount of risk, for the purposes of
financial gain."

Mr. Dunster was still mystified.

"Granted that you do so from pure love of adventure," he declared,
"I still cannot see why you should range yourself on the side of your
country's enemies.

"In time," Mr. Fentolin observed, "even that may become clear to you. At
present, well--just that word, if you please?"

Mr. Dunster shook his head.

"No," he decided, "I do not think so. I cannot make up my mind to tell
you that word."

Mr. Fentolin gave no sign of annoyance or even disappointment. He simply
sighed. His eyes were full of a gentle sympathy, his face indicated a
certain amount of concern.

"You distress me," he declared. "Perhaps it is my fault. I have not made
myself sufficiently clear. The knowledge of that word is a necessity to
me. Without it I cannot complete my plans. Without it I very much fear,
dear Mr. Dunster, that your sojourn among us may be longer than you have
any idea of."

Mr. Dunster laughed a little derisively.

"We've passed those days," he remarked. "I've done my best to enter
into the humour of this situation, but there are limits. You can't keep
prisoners in English country houses, nowadays. There are a dozen ways
of communicating with the outside world, and when that's once done, it
seems to me that the position of Squire Fentolin of St. David's Hall
might be a little peculiar."

Mr. Fentolin smiled, very slightly, still very blandly.

"Alas, my stalwart friend, I fear that you are by nature an optimist! I
am not a betting man, but I am prepared to bet you a hundred pounds to
one that you have made your last communication with the outside world
until I say the word."

Mr. Dunster was obviously plentifully supplied with either courage or
bravado, for he only laughed.

"Then you had better make up your mind at once, Mr. Fentolin, how soon
that word is to be spoken, or you may lose your money," he remarked.

Mr. Fentolin sat very quietly in his chair.

"You mean, then," he asked, "that you do not intend to humour me in this
little matter?"

"I do not intend," Mr. Dunster assured him, "to part with that word
to you or to any one else in the the world. When my message has been
presented to the person to whom it has been addressed, when my trust is
discharged, then a