ediately a dark figure rose from a couch in the farther
corner of the room and approached me.

"Can I get you anything, sir?"

I turned in my chair. The man-servant whom the Duke had put in charge
of the "Brand," my present habitation, and who remained with me always
in the room while I worked, stood at my elbow.

"I would like some coffee, Grooton," I said. "I am going to walk up to
the house with these papers, and I shall want a bath and some breakfast
directly I get back."

"Very good, sir. It shall be ready."

I folded up the sheets and maps, and placing them in an oilskin case,
tied them round my body under my waistcoat. Then I withdrew all the
cartridges save one from the revolver which had lain all night within
easy reach of my right hand, and slipped it into my pocket.

"Coffee ready, Grooton?"

"In one moment, sir."

I watched him bending over the stove, pale, dark-visaged, with the
subdued manners and voice which mark the aristocracy of servitude. My
employer's confidence in him must be immense, for while he watched over
me I was practically in his power.

"Have you been long with the Duke, Grooton?" I asked him.

"Twenty-one years, sir. I left his Grace to go to Lord Chelsford, who
found me some work in London."

"Secret service work, wasn't it, Grooton?"

"Yes, sir."

"Interesting?"

"Some parts of it very interesting, sir."

I nodded and drank my coffee. Grooton was watching me with an air of
respectful interest.

"You will pardon my remarking it, sir, but I hope you will try and get
some sleep during the day. You are very pale this morning, sir."

I looked at the glass, and was startled at my own reflection. This was
only my third day, and the responsibilities of my work were heavy upon
me. My cheeks were sunken and there were black rings around my eyes.

"I will lie down when I come back, Grooton," I answered.

Outside, the fresh morning wind came like a sudden sweet tonic to my
jaded nerves. I paused for a moment to face bareheaded the rush of it
from the sea. As I stood there, drinking it in, I became suddenly aware
of light approaching footsteps. Some one was coming towards the cottage
from the Park.

I did not immediately turn my head, but every nerve in my body seemed to
stiffen into quivering curiosity.

The pathway was a private one leading from the house only to the
"Brand," and down the cliff to Braster. It was barely seven o'clock,
and the footsteps were no labouring