uld not control her voice.

He looked down at her in surprise. "You would like to go to Valpre again,
wouldn't you?"

She gasped. "I--I really don't know. But what made you choose it? You
have never been there."

"No," he said. "You will be able to introduce me to all your old haunts."

She gasped again. "You chose it because of that?"

He put a steadying hand upon her shoulder. "Chris, what makes you so
nervous, child? No, I didn't choose it because of that. As a matter of
fact, I didn't choose it at all. I am due there on business in three
weeks' time, but I thought we might put in a fortnight together there
beforehand. Wouldn't you like that?"

She shivered under his hand, and made no reply. She only said, "What
business?"

He hesitated a moment, then deliberately sat down upon the bed and drew
her close to him. "You remember that blackguard Frenchman Rodolphe who
was staying with the Pounceforts two or three weeks ago?"

"Yes," whispered Chris.

"He is to be court-martialled at Valpre, and I have accepted an offer to
go as correspondent to the _Morning Despatch_ and report upon his trial.
As you know, I represented them at Bertrand's _affaire,_ and this is a
sequel to that. In fact, Bertrand himself is very nearly concerned in it.
Certain transactions have recently come to light tending to show that the
crime of which he was accused was not only committed by this same
Rodolphe, but that he also deliberately manufactured evidence to shield
himself at the expense of Bertrand, the author of the betrayed invention,
against whom it seems he had a personal grudge. By the way, he managed
skilfully to keep in the background at Bertrand's trial. I fancy he was
away on some special mission at the time, and he did not appear. I never
saw him before that day at Sandacre Court, and I did not so much as know
then that he and Bertrand were acquainted. Did you know that?"

She started at the question, but answered it more naturally than she had
before spoken. "Yes. I knew that Bertie had belonged to the same
regiment. They did not speak to each other that afternoon. You see, I was
there."

"Ah! And you never met him in the old Valpre days?"

Again she answered without apparent agitation; but her hands were fast
gripped together in the gloom. "I may have seen him. I never spoke to
him. Bertie was the only one I ever knew."

"Ah!" Mordaunt said again. He was plainly thinking of Bertrand's affairs.
"Well, he is to stan