l my fault."

They stared at her in amazement. Only Granet, with an effort, kept his
face expressionless. Sir Meyville began to mutter to himself.

"God bless my soul!" he mumbled. "Isabel, what do you want, girl? Can't
you see that we are engaged?"

She took no notice of him. She turned appealingly towards Major Thomson.

"Can you send the soldiers away for a moment?" she begged. "I don't
think that they will be needed."

Major Thomson gave a brief order and the men left the room. Isabel came
a little nearer to the table. She avoided looking at Granet.

"I am very sorry indeed," she went on, "if anything I have done has
caused all this trouble. Captain Granet came down here partly to play
golf, partly at my invitation. He was here yesterday afternoon, as my
father knows. Before he left--I asked him to come over last night."

There was a breathless silence. Isabel was standing at the end of the
table, her fingers still clasped nervously together, a spot of intense
colour in her cheeks. She kept her eyes turned sedulously away from
Granet. Sir Meyville gripped her by the shoulder.

"What do you mean, girl?" he demanded harshly. "What do you mean by all
this rubbish? Speak out."

Granet looked up for a moment.

"Don't," he begged. "I can clear myself, Miss Worth, if any one is mad
enough to have suspicions about me. I should never--"

"The truth may just as well be told," she interrupted. "There is nothing
to be ashamed of. It is hideously dull down here, and the life my father
has asked me to lead for the last few months has been intolerable. I
never sleep, and I invited Captain Granet to come over here at twelve
o'clock last night and take me for a motor ride. I was dressed,
meaning to go, and Captain Granet came to fetch me. It turned out to be
impossible because of all the new sentries about the place, but that is
why Captain Granet was here, and that," she concluded, turning to Major
Thomson, "is why, I suppose, he felt obliged to tell you what was not
the truth. It has been done before."

There was a silence which seemed composed of many elements. Sir Meyville
Worth stood with his eyes fixed upon his daughter and an expression of
blank, uncomprehending dismay in his features. Granet, a frown upon his
forehead, was looking towards the floor. Thomson, with the air of seeing
nobody, was studying them all in turn. It was he who spoke first.

"As you justly remark, Miss Worth," he observed, "this sort of th