the carriage when a sudden thought struck him. What
about his uniform strewn about the compartment where he had
changed? He ran back. The compartment was empty. Not a trace
remained of the remarkable scenes of their night journey.

"This is for you," said the young man, handing Desmond a note as
they walked down the platform.

Outside the station a motor-car with its noisy throbbing awoke
the echoes of the darkened and empty courtyard. Desmond waited
until he was being whirled over the smooth asphalt of the City
streets before he opened the letter.

He found a note and a small key inside the envelope.

"On reaching the house to which you will be conveyed," the note
said, "you will remain indoors until further orders. You can
devote your time to studying the papers you will find in the desk
beside the bed. For the present you need not fear detection as
long as you do not leave the house." Then followed a few rough
jottings obviously for his guidance.

"Housekeeper, Martha, half blind, stupid; odd man, John Hill,
mostly invisible, no risk from either. You are confined to house
with heavy chill. Do not go out until you get the word."

The last sentence was twice underlined.

The night was now pitch-dark. Heavy clouds had come up and
obscured the stars and a drizzle of rain was falling. The car
went forward at a good pace and Desmond, after one or two
ineffectual attempts to make out where they were going, was
lulled by the steady motion into a deep sleep. He was dreaming
fitfully of the tossing Channel as he had seen it but a few hours
before when he came to his senses with a start. He felt a cold
draught of air on his face and his feet were dead with cold.

A figure stood at the open door of the car. It was the chauffeur.

"Here we are, sir," he said.

Desmond stiffly descended to the ground. It was so dark that he
could distinguish nothing, but he felt the grit of gravel under
his feet and he heard the melancholy gurgle of running water. He
took a step forward and groped his way into a little porch
smelling horribly of mustiness and damp. As he did so, he heard a
whirr behind him and the car began to glide off. Desmond shouted
after the chauffeur. Now that he stood on the very threshold of
his adventure, he wanted to cling desperately to this last link
with his old self. But the chauffeur did not or would not hear,
and presently the sound of the engine died away, leaving Desmond
to the darkness, the sad sp