The Launching of Roger Brook

With a frightful jolt he landed on his feet. He let his knees go slack in an effort to take up the shock, but overbalanced and fell backwards. For a moment the wind was knocked out of him and he lay there gasping. But the sound of running feet upon the cobbles made him force himself to turn over and struggle to his knees.

De Rayneval and the rest had reached the windows above him. They were now shouting to attract the attention of the stable hands, and anyone else who might yet prevent Roger's escape. As he heard their cries he knew that if he did not get away in the next few moments he would certainly be overwhelmed. His one hope now lay in over­coming the man who was running at him, then making a dash for the street.

Count Lucien's unexpected arrival had deprived him of the chance of collecting his savings, and now this outcry rendered it impossible for him to saddle a horse. Instead of riding away on a fast mount with a full purse and several hours' start of his pursuers, he must now take to his heels and seek to avoid an immediate hue and cry as best he could. And he was not yet even clear of the courtyard. Unless he could deal speedily with the man who was now almost on him, the driver of the coach would close the gates, and he would be trapped there.

These frantic thoughts all jostled through his brain as, still shaken by his fall, he came to his feet, and turned to face the figure that was running at him out of the darkness. Staggering back against the wall he threw himself on guard to gain a moment's breathing-space.

Suddenly, as his sight adjusted itself to the darkness, he saw that the man had a sword at his side but had not drawn it. Next second a familiar voice cried: "To the coach, man! To the coach! Don't linger there or they'll have you yet!"

Only then, with a gasp of mingled amazement and thankfulness, did Roger recognise his friend de la Tour d'Auvergne.

Giving a cry of relief he started forward. But before he had covered three paces he suddenly remembered his own sword, which he had left in a corner of the porch, close by. The fine old Toledo blade had been his companion through good fortune and ill from the very first day that he had landed in France, over four years before; and that night it had served him supremely well. For the sake of another few moments he could not bring himself to abandon it.

The light of torches now came from the stable end of the courtyard. Above him shouts and cries still rent the stillness of the night. Answering shouts came from the grooms and ostlers only a hundred paces away, as they streamed out into the yard. But Roger ignored both them and de la Tour d'Auvergne's frantic appeals to hurry. Swerving as he ran he dashed towards the porch, flung down Count Lucien's gilded rapier and snatched up his own plain but deadly blade.

As he leapt down the steps the crowd of stablemen were only fifty paces from him; but de la. Tour d'Auvergne had now drawn his sword, and stood ready to come to his assistance. A moment later the two friends were running side by side for the coach.

"Bless you!" panted Roger, as they ran. " 'Twas a marvellous thought of yours to bring a coach, and stand by here lest I found myself in some extremity."

The Vicomte laughed. "I can take no credit for that, mon ami. I had thought you on your way to England. 'Twas but five minutes back that I heard your voice and that of M. de Rochambeau, raised in altercation, above there—and delayed my departure to learn the outcome."

As they reached the coach Roger saw that it was only a one-horse hired hackney; but they were still forty paces ahead of the yelling mob of stable hands, and the coachman was on the alert, ready to drive off the instant they were inside it.

Separating for a moment as they reached the back of the coach they sped along its sides. Each seized a door, wrenched it open and, simultaneously, flung themselves into its dark interior. The coachman's whip cracked, the horse jerked on the traces and the vehicle jolted forward.

Roger stumbled and fell to his knees. As his head went forward it hit a yielding but solid substance. Thrusting out a hand to steady himself it fell upon folds of rich heavy silk. There came a quick excited cry but, even before he heard it, Roger had recognised the fragrant scent that partially overcame the musty odour of the old hackney. There, in the pitch darkness, sat Athenais.

The Vicomte, knowing of her presence, had thrown himself into the place beside her. Levering himself up as the coach turned into the street, Roger dropped on to the seat opposite them. The lamp on the gate lit their faces for a moment and they were both smiling at him.

"What—what means this?" he exclaimed, almost overcome with excitement.

De la Tour d'Auvergne's rich voice came out of the darkness: "We are eloping. Twas a decision taken on the spur of the moment, but I vow we'll not regret it."

Athenais's clear treble followed close upon his words. "Nay, may I die if I do! To your inspiration, Monsieur, and your trust in me I'll owe my escape from the veil." She leaned forward and placed a hand on Roger's knee. "And to you, dear miller's youngest son, for the slaying of the dragon this night we both owe a debt that we shall ne'er be able to repay."

As the coach careered swiftly down the street, leaving M. de Rochambeau's people behind, Roger strove to readjust his thoughts. He did not doubt that Athenais still loved him, yet he knew that she had been right beyond all question to accept the Vicomte's proposal that they should elope.

" 'Twas a marvellous impulse," he said quickly. "Since for both of you it means all that offered a few months back, before any of us gave a thought to de Caylus. But what led you to conceive it?"

"We are your debtors there again," replied the Vicomte. " Twas born of the converse I had with you when we were returning from the fight. You told me that Athenais would be happy to have me as a husband, while concealing nothing of your own relations with her. After you had left me I realised for the fust time how she felt and how I stood. 'Twas but a jump then to the thought of snatching her from her father's vengeance."

"You owe me nothing," Roger demurred. "The swift and audacious decision was entirely yours. It needed courage, too, seeing that you can have had no time to make any preparations and M. de Rochambeau may yet pursue you."

"Nay, I doubt that," Athenais chimed in. " 'Tis no small part of the genius of M. le Vicomte's stroke that it will muddy the waters of the affair. By carrying me off he protects me from the scandal to which I would otherwise have been subject on your account. Since he accompanied you to the encounter before eloping with me, 'twill now be said that you plotted the whole business together. People will believe that 'twas out of friendship for him that you killed de Caylus, and not from love of me. And my father is no fool. He'll not let his anger against me deprive him of this chance to save the family honour."

Roger felt that her reasoning was sound. For her father to catch her if he could, and drag her back to throw her into a convent, would be as good as an admission that any rumours de Caylus's servants might spread about the cause of the duel were true; whereas a runaway match with a noble of de la Tour d'Auvergne's quality would give the whole matter an acceptably romantic twist, and save her reputation.

"I think you're right," he said, after a moment, "but none the less, if M. le Vicomte is to be saddled with such full complicity in the slaying of de Caylus, 'tis more than ever important that you should use the utmost speed in reaching Brittany. Our good hackney coachman has served us well in carrying us clear of the Rue St. Honore without trouble, but you must secure some far swifter vehicle with a minimum of delay."

" 'Tis all arranged," the Vicomte announced. "As soon as I reached my lodging I gave instructions to Jacques about our journey. We are now on our way to a rendezvous with him at the Red Mill, up on Montmartre. While I took this hackney to the Hotel de Rochambeau he was to pack for me, then engage a post-chaise with a team of six and be waiting for us there."

"Why at Montmartre?" asked Roger. " 'Tis to the north of Paris and the road to Brittany lies to the west."

De la Tour d'Auvergne smiled in the darkness. "I promised our coachman a good reward to do as he was ordered without argument; but that will not stop his tongue wagging should he later be questioned by the police. If he thinks that we took the Amiens road it may fox them somewhat, for a few hours at least; and the detour to bring us round on to our true course is not considerable."

" 'Twas well planned," Roger agreed. "But tell me now, how you succeeded in carrying Athenais off with so little fuss? I'd have thought that Madame Marie-Ange would have brought the whole Hotel about your ears."

Athenais laughed. "Poor Marie-Ange! We left her locked up in a toilette."

" 'Twas amazingly simple," the Vicomte added. "By the time I reached the Hotel 'twas near half-past eleven; but I sent up a message that I had urgent news for Athenais and by good fortune she had not yet retired. She received me with Madame Velot and, just as you had urged me to, I related all that had passed without reserve."

" 'Tis cruel of me to laugh," Athenais took up the tale, "but 'twas vastly diverting, now that one can look back upon it. No sooner did Marie-Ange' learn that for near a year past you and I had been carrying on a clandestine affair beneath her nose than she fainted dead away. Whether from shock to her sensibilities or from fear of what my father would say to her, I know not; but it gave M. le Vicomte the chance he was seeking to beg me to save myself and make him happy."

"And on Mademoiselle consenting to entrust herself to me, I carried her duenna to the closet and locked her in," de la Tour d'Auvergne went on. " 'Twas an anxious ten minutes while my newly-betrothed collected her jewels and a night-bag, but all went well. I feared, too, that on seeing her about to leave the house alone with me at night the servants would run to acquaint M. le Marquis with so unusual an occurrence, and that he would order them to detain us before we could reach the coach. But not a soul did we see; the hall was empty and we made our exit without anyone being aware of it."

" 'Twas my unconscious good fortune to have cleared the way for you," Roger smiled. "The servants had all congregated in my office, and were striving to break down the door between it and M. le Marquis's sanctum."

"But what in the world possessed you to return to the Hotel. I thought you well upon the road to Le Havre or Calais."

Roger felt a horrid qualm about deceiving his friends; but they knew nothing of the intricacies of international affairs and he doubted if he could persuade them that his betrayal of M. de Rochambeau was justified by the chance it offered of preventing war. So he said a little hurriedly:

"I returned to collect my money and some other things. But, alas! I accomplished neither. Though, fortunately, I took the precaution of putting ten louis in my pocket against an emergency before I left for the Bois de Meudon. On my return I became involved in a conference that M. le Marquis was holding, and 'twould have provoked the most awkward questions had I attempted to leave before 'twas over. The affair was not concluded till midnight; then, just as I was hoping to get away, Count Lucien came on the scene. He told his father every­thing and 'twas that which precipitated the riot that you heard."

The coach had now dropped into a walking pace and, as it-mounted the steep hill toward Montmartre, Roger related the outcome of Count Lucien's denunciation. He had hardly done when it breasted the rise and turned towards Clichy. A quarter of a mile further on it pulled up in an open space beneath the shadow of the big red wmdmill that dominated the height. A figure appeared at the window and threw the coach door open. It was Jacques, who announced that he had the post-chaise there in readiness.

They got out and while Roger escorted Athenais over to the chaise the Vicomte paid off the hackney coachman liberally. The two friends then moved aside out of earshot of the servants.

"How do you now intend to proceed?" asked de la Tour d'Auvergne.

"I shall make for Dieppe, since 'tis the nearest port to Paris," replied Roger.

" 'Tis a hundred miles and you will have to ride all night, unless you are to be passed by the couriers that will be despatched to close the ports against you. Count Lucien's wound not having proved serious enough to keep him at Meudon has deprived us of the long start we thought was ours. By now he and his father may be at the Ministry of Police, and if M. de Crosne proves readily available warrants will be issued for our arrest within,an hour or so."

"I know it," Roger agreed glumly. "And I have yet to find a horse to carry me the first stage of my journey."

"Jacques has brought my two mounts as well as his own. The best of the pair I used to take me to Meudon and back so he is not fit for much else to-night, but you are welcome to the other."

"A thousand thanks. I'll not refuse your offer."

"Allowing for only brief halts to change horses on the road, 'tis a twelve-hour ride. Do you think that after what you have already been through to-night you can keep the saddle for so long?"

" 'Tis that which gives me most concern," Roger agreed. "Could I but rest for a few hours before making a start I'd do it easily enough; but that is impossible."

De la Tour d'Auvergne considered for a moment, then he said: "Why not come with us to Brittany? Once there you could hide for a while. My people would never betray you, and within a week or so I would find a trustworthy Captain to take you across to England."

Roger was tempted to accept, but the imperative necessity of reaching London by the 3rd, or at latest, the 4th of September, and the additional danger that he would bring upon his friends by remaining with them, made him feel that he ought to gamble everything on attempting to get through on his own, and at once.

" 'Tis mighty generous of you," he said. "But for all our sakes 'tis best that we should separate. The main hue and cry will be after me. If M. de Crosne's people pick up traces of me in my dash into Normandy 'tis unlikely that they will bother themselves so much about you. But if they learn that I am with you in the chaise they'll concentrate on that. Then, if they catch us, Athenais, as well as we two, would be hauled back to Paris."

"There's sense in that," the Vicomte nodded. "Yet I fear you may fall off your horse from fatigue on the last stage to Dieppe. Wait, though! I have it! I'll order the chaise to take us to Mantes. 'Tis midway between your route and ours. Thus we shall leave no tidings of our passing to our pursuers on either of the roads they would expect us to take. On reaching there we will separate; but 'tis a good thirty miles and while we cover them you can rest yourself in the chaise. Twould give you a far better chance of reaching Dieppe without collapsing."

Roger barely hesitated. If he did collapse and was forced to halt on the road it was certain that M. de Crosne's couriers would pass him while he slept. His chances of getting safely across the Channel would then be enormously reduced as, by the time he reached the port, every Captain would have been warned to be on the look-out for him.

"Yes," he said, " 'twould not only give me a few hours free from exertion, but also reduce the distance I have to ride to seventy-five miles. I will gladly come with you as far as Mantes."

As they turned towards the post-chaise Roger took a last look at Paris. Despite the lateness of the hour lights were still shining from many dormer windows and there was no sense of repose about that city of violent contrasts. Underneath the myriad roofs down there in the valley many hundreds of nobles and several thousand wealthy bourgeois would-be-nobles, clad in their rich silks and satins, with powdered hair, patches and quizzing-glasses, were gambling at innumerable tables or supping off the fat of the land with their latest mistresses; while five times their number of servants aped their ways yet hated and envied them; and fifty times their number of fellow human beings, overworked, underpaid, half-starved, were taking such rest as they could get in conditions of the utmost misery and squalor.

The moon emerging from behind a bank of scudding cloud silvered the uneven, close-packed ranks of gables and threw the open spaces up as blanks of deep shadow. Following the bend of the river Roger picked out the He de la Cite, the vast quadrangle made by the Palace and, beyond it, the empty blackness of the Tuileries' gardens. It was there, before the trees shed their leaves many times again, thatMadame la Guillotine would be set up to do her deadly work, striking down the innocent as well as the guilty with blind impartiality.

Had Georgina been present her strange gift might have enabled her to see its sinister shadow; but Roger was simply wondering whether he would ever see Paris again as a free man, or be brought back there within the next few days, as a manacled prisoner, to meet an infamous death upon the scaffold.

"Come! 'Tis no time to dally," called de la Tour d'Auvergne; and, running over to the post-chaise, Roger scrambled in. Jacques was already mounted, and holding the bridles of the two led horses. As Roger slammed the door of the carriage the postilion cracked his whip and they were off.

For a little while, as they drove between the scattered farms and windmills on the heights of Clichy, they talked; but by the time they reached the village of Asnieres they had fallen silent. All three of them were now feeling the reaction from the hours of strain and excitement through which they had passed, the post-road was broad and even, and the chaise a well-sprung one; its rhythmic rocking had a soporific effect on their over-wrought minds, and before they passed south of the bend in the Seine to the east of St. Germain they were asleep.

Two hours later they shook themselves awake and descended in the yard of the Auberge du Grand Cerf at Mantes. Such post-houses were well used to travellers with urgent business arriving at all hours, and the night ostlers had already run out to change the horses. The door of the inn was unbolted after a few moments by a sleepy serving man who had just pulled on his jacket. Lantern in hand, he invited them to enter and take a cup of wine while the chaise was being furnished with its relay.

De la Tour d'Auvergne pulled out his watch, glanced at it, and said: " 'Tis barely half-past three, so we have made good time, and I confess to being plaguey hungry. We can well afford twenty minutes for a scratch meal before we take the road again. What say you to it?"

Athehais smiled as she took the arm he offered. " 'Tis said that a wife's first duty is to see her husband lacks not for his creature comforts, so I pray you, Monsieur, order what you will and I'll encourage you by partaking of a few tid-bits."

Whatever they can give us will be welcome," Roger supported her. "For I, too, am now remembering the fact that to-night I missed my supper."

The serving man led them into the inn parlour; then produced part of a cold ham, bread, butter, cheese and two bottles of Corton. Although the night was not cold they ate and drank standing round the smouldering ashes of the fire, conscious that they dared not linger, yet finding little to say to one another now that the time for Roger to leave the others had so nearly come.

After the Vicomte had swallowed a few mouthfuls of the food and a single glass of wine he said to Athehais: "I have some further arrange­ments to make for our journey, Mademoiselle, so I pray you excuse me. I shall be away for some ten minutes."

Roger realised then that the Vicomte had only pleaded hunger as an excuse to bring them into the inn, and that he had done so with the most generous intention of giving his companions an opportunity to say their farewells in private.

As the door closed behind de la Tour d'Auvergne the two lovers made an instinctive movement towards each other, but both checked it almost instantly, and Roger shook his head.

Athenais smiled sadly, having the same thought. " 'Tis true. My lips are no longer mine to give you; yet you will ever hold a great part of my heart."

"And you of mine, my most beautiful Princess," He replied. "I would, though, that I had the courage to beg you to forget me; for your betrothed surely deserves that you should make him happy."

"And I will make him so, never fear. Having gone contrary to the fashion by taking a lover before my marriage, 'tis my intent to continue in my eccentric course, and be faithful to my husband afterwards."

" 'Tis a wise decision," Roger agreed gravely. "If he were not so fine a man I would be sick with envy; but honesty compels me to admit that he is more worthy of you than myself."

"Say not so, dear miller's youngest son. No gentleman of France or England could have shown greater devotion to his lady, or more gallantry on her behalf, than you have done."

He smiled. "That is as it should be in an old romance; but when it comes to marriage more sterling qualities are of greater worth. He, too, fought on your behalf. I was more fortunate, that is all. He loves you as devotedly as I have ever done, and in addition has qualities that I lack. I often lie to gain my ends and that is a thing he would never do. I am an adventurer by instinct and, though I was sorely tempted in your case, I doubt if I shall ever marry; whereas he is the very pattern of upright manhood best suited to be the father of a woman's children and give her a constant love."

It had cost Roger a lot to say that, but he wanted to leave an impression with her that she had not, after all, lost so much by losing him; and thus cause her heart to incline the more speedily towards her husband.

He was all the more disconcerted when she suddenly cried in a tone of reproach: "Oh, Rojé, Rojé! You have no need to praise his qualities and decry your own. Have I not told you that I will be a good wife to him; and this marriage gives both him and me a better prospect of contentment than any our parents would have made for us. But 'tis not for their worthiness that women love men. If aught could make me love him 'tis his generosity in having left us here expressly that you might take me in your arms again. Yet you waste these precious minutes in talking like a fool!"

Her eyes were swimming with tears as she swayed towards him and, all his better resolutions gone, he caught her to his breast. For a few moments they clung together, then she took from her middle finger a great sapphire ring and put it on the little finger of his left hand.

"Take this," she said, smiling wanly. "You'll not need it to remember me by, but it may serve you in some emergency. 'Twas the ring de Caylus gave me on my betrothal to him, so in any case I would wear it no longer. And 'twould pleasure me to think that his gift had saved you in a time of trouble."

As he thanked her she went to the table and poured two glasses of wine. Giving him one she lifted the other, and said: "Should we meet again 'twill be only as friends, so I give a toast. To our memories and our future friendship."

"To our memories and our future friendship," he repeated, and they both drank down the wine.

Their empty glasses were still in their hands when de la Tour d'Auvergne re-entered the room.

She turned away to hide her tear-dimmed eyes, but he did not even glance at her, and said to Roger with a smile: "I have chosen and vetted the best fresh mount in the stables, and 'tis outside ready saddled for you. What we owe to one another no words can express so let us not attempt it. Instead we'll wish each other God-speed and a renewal of our friendship. May it not be too long before we meet again. Let's drink a glass of wine to that."

"You put my own thoughts better than I could have put them myself," Roger smiled back; and filling the glasses he drank again with de la Tour d'Auvergne. Then all three of them went out into the night.

As they reached the yard the Vicomte murmured: "Your best road is to Gisors, and thence to Gournay."

"And yours?" asked Roger. "I would like to know as I shall be thinking of you."

"We shall make for Evreux and should reach the town by six o'clock. Tis there I hope to find a priest to marry us."

"My prayers for your happiness go with you."

"And mine with you for your good fortune."

Athenais was already seated in the chaise. As the Vicomte settled himself beside her she extended a slender hand to Roger. Bowing over it he kissed her fingertips. Then he took one last look at the beautiful face that four years before, when still that of a child, had thrown an instant enchantment over him. He had seen it proud, angry, sullen, disfigured, and finally, as the adoring face of a most lovely woman. The magnificent blue eyes were still dim with tears but they smiled bravely, and serenely now, upon him. He released her hand and closed the door.

Before the chaise was out of the yard he had mounted the horse that the ostler was holding for him. A moment later his love and his friend were being whirled along the road to the north-west as fast as six fresh horses could carry them; while he had turned his mount on to the road to the north-east and was settling down to ride for his life—and to reach England with the letter that might prevent a war.

CHAPTER XXIV

ONE THOUSAND LOUIS REWARD

I T was just on four in the morning when Roger galloped out of the courtyard of the Grand Cerf at Mantes; at a quarter to six he drew rein in that of the De Blanmont at Gisors. In the stable he changed his horse for a chestnut gelding and, within five minutes, was on his way again.

Now that the morning light had come the peasants were wending their way out into the fields, but he took no notice of them or of the countryside through which he passed. His every thought was con­centrated on choosing the best ground for his mount, and seeing that each time he adjusted its pace it should not jolt and tire him needlessly.

By seven o'clock he reached Gournay, changed his chestnut for a bay mare at the Auberge du Nord, and took the road to Neufchatel. This stage was longer than the last and the vigour of the good wine he had drunk in Mantes had now passed out of him. Moreover, shortly after eight o'clock it began to rain, which soon made the going heavier; so he did not reach Neufchatel until a quarter past nine.

He had now covered over fifty miles and still had twenty-five to go; the fourth and last stage of his journey being considerably the longest; so, on dismounting in the yard of the Lion d'Or, he decided to give himself a rest before undertaking it.

Going into the inn he ordered coffee, laced it well with cognac and, lying back in an elbow chair with his long legs stretched out before him, drank it slowly. At a quarter to ten he went out into the rain, mounted a mettlesome strawberry roan that had been saddled for him and took the road to Dieppe.

A wind had now got up and was blowing the rain against his face in gusty squalls. Before he covered half the distance he was feeling both tired and dejected. His knees and thigh muscles were aching acutely from their hours of constant pressure on his mounts, in two places he was saddle-sore and the slippery reins were hurting where he gripped them with the gloved fingers of his left hand. Despite these physical afflictions he had no doubts about his ability to reach Dieppe, but he was now extremely perturbed by the state of the weather. The fine spell had clearly broken and with every mile he covered towards the sea'conditions worsened, so he was desperately afraid that all sailings might be cancelled on that account.

At a quarter past twelve he urged the flagging, foam-flecked roan past the turnpike at the entrance to Dieppe and asked the way down to the harbour. He was aching in every limb and soaked to the skin, but he had done the journey from Paris well under twelve hours and he felt confident that no ordinary courier would do it under eighteen; so, with the hour or two's start he must have had over any agent that M. de Crosne might have despatched to Dieppe, he felt that he still had a clear field for the best part of eight hours, and would get clean away if only a boat were leaving before nightfall.

But on reaching the pier from which the packets left for Newhaven, his worst fears were realised. He was told that the boat that would normally have left at six that evening would not be sailing, owing to the storm in the Channel.

He knew that the first inquiries for him would be made at the official posting-house; so instead of going there he went to a small inn on the Quai Henri IV, called Le Bon Matelot and stabled his horse. Then, tired, wet and sore as he was, he went out and spent two hours dragging himself round the harbour district from one dnnking-booth to another, frantically endeavouring to find a Captain who would put out for England in the storm.

Normally, the money he had on him would have been ample to induce some poor fisherman to undertake the trip, but none of them would do so in such weather. It occurred to him then that this was just the sort of emergency that Athenais had had in mind when she had given him de Caylus's ring; so he showed it to several of the fishing-masters and offered it in exchange for an immediate passage to England.

It was a beautiful sapphire, surrounded with small diamonds and he thought that it must be worth at least a hundred louis; but all of them shook their heads. One after another they pointed out that neither gold nor jewels were of use to any man if he was lying rotting at the bottom of the sea, and that as the waves were riding too high for the packet it would be suicide to attempt the crossing in one of their much smaller craft.

A little before three, Roger realised that further efforts were useless. Neither prayers nor bribes would induce any master to leave Dieppe harbour that night. In the dram-shops that he had visited he had had several cognacs to whip up his failing energies but now he felt utterly done, and knew that when he did sleep it would be for many hours.

By morning it was as good as certain that the authorities would be hunting him. De Crosne's agent would have picked up the fact overnight that the fugitive had left the Lion d'Or at Neufchatel on a roan horse, and the steed not having been handed in at the Dieppe posting-stage would be searched for throughout the public stables of the town. It would be found at Le Bon Matelot, so for him to spend the night there obviously involved a considerable risk. In consequence, he went to another small inn, near the Eglise St. Jacques, called the Chapon Fin, and took a room there.

Going straight upstairs he emptied his pockets, pulled off his soaking clothes, and gave them to the chambermaid to be dried at the kitchen fire, then flopped naked into bed. He was utterly exhausted and, despite his anxieties, was overcome almost instantly by a deep and dreamless sleep.

He slept for sixteen hours, waking a little before eight the following morning. He was terribly stiff, but his head was clear and he felt ravenously hungry. Giving scarcely a thought to any of these things, he jumped out of bed and ran to the window. In a second he saw that the rain was sheeting down and being driven in violent gusts against the panes. With a curse, he turned away; but, none the less, seeing that the maid had brought back his dried clothes while he slept he began to hurry into them.

On getting downstairs he at once questioned the landlord about the prospects of the packet sailing that day, but the man said that the weather had worsened during the night and it was certain that no ships would be leaving port while the gale continued. Roger could only attempt to console himself by ordering two boiled eggs and a fillet steak to be served in the coffee-room with his petit dejeuner.

The astounded landlord gave him a nasty jar by declaring that he "must be an Englishman in disguise." For a second he thought that he had aroused the man's suspicions in connection with a description of himself which might have been circulated to innkeepers during the night; then he remembered that he was, after a lapse of years, once more on a coast where the habits of the English were well known, and realised that the man was only joking.

Yet, all the same, while Roger was eating his eggs and steak he knew he must face the fact that M. de Crosne's courier would have reached Dieppe the preceding night, and the odds were that the police would be combing the town for him that morning. As he had arrived at the Chapon Fin hatless, coatless and without baggage of any kind, it seemed certain that suspicion would swiftly fall on hun in the event of any inquiry being made there. So after breakfast he paid his bill and left the inn.

In spite of the rain and the blustering wind he went along to the harbour to make quite certain that no ships were leaving. He found it practically deserted and an old salt who was splicing a rope under a lean-to told him that, even if the wind dropped, which he thought unlikely, the seas would be running too high for any vessel to venture out into them for another twenty-four hours at least.

Cursing the weather that, by its foulness, was placing his life in jeopardy, Roger set about endeavouring to alter his appearance. After buying a large canvas grip he visited a secondhand clothes' shop, where he bought a tattered cloak and a seaman's stocking-cap. Putting these on outside, to conceal the clothes in which he had left Paris and hide his hair, he visited another secondhand shop in a better part of the town and bought there a more expensive outfit. It included sea-boots, blue trousers and reefer coat, a topcoat with a triple collar and a low, square-crowned bowler hat with a shiny leather band, of a type often worn by the officers of merchant ships.

Having crammed his purchases into the bag he carried it to the far side of the channel leading from the harbour to the sea, where he had noticed that morning a number of sheds and half-built boats on stocks. No one was working there in the teeming rain so he entered one of the wooden sheds and, without fear of interruption, changed into his new clothes. Next, he plaited his back hair and, doubling the thin end under, tied it with a piece of ribbon in a nautical queue. Then he made a bundle of his Paris clothes, weighted it with stones and, carrying it to the water's edge, threw it in.

It was only with the greatest reluctance that he parted with his elegant, soft-leather riding-boots and the expensive lace at his wrists and throat, but he knew that it would have been madness to keep them, as they were just the sort of things that would have given him away.

Returning to the town side of the harbour it struck him that, since he must remain in Dieppe for at least one more night, he would be seen by fewer people if he took lodgings rather than a room at another inn; so he set about hunting for something suitable. Happening to notice a street sign reading "Rue d'Ecosse" he thought that a good omen and turned along it. Sure enough a hundred yards from its entrance he came upon a neat little house with a card bearing the carefully-drawn words Apartement a Louer in its ground-floor window.

The door was opened to him by an immensely fat woman who, puffing and wheezing, took him upstairs to a sparsely furnished but clean-looking bedroom and sitting-room. For appearance sake he haggled a little over the price and made her include his petit dejeuner in it; then he took the rooms, paid her a deposit and went out again, to get himself a midday meal.

After eating reasonably well in an unpretentious restaurant he bought a bottle of wine and some cold food for his supper, and a few toilet articles; then he returned to the house in the Rue d'Ecosse and, since he had nothing else to do and would at least not be seen there, went to bed.

For the first time since leaving the Rue St. Honord to fight his duel with de Caylus he had leisure to think over the tornado of events in which he had been caught up. The duel seemed to him to have taken place at least a week ago, yet, curiously enough, he was under a vague impression that it was only that morning that Athenais, if all had gone well, had married de la Tour d'Auvergne in Evreux. But after a minute's thought he realised that while the duel had taken place less than forty-four hours ago, Ath£nals had most probably been Madame la Vicomtesse for thirty hours or more. It was actually Wednesday the 30th of August, the day that she was to have married de Caylus, and while the long hours of Monday night had been crammed with happenings that stood out in Roger's mind Tuesday had passed him by almost unnoticed, owing to his exhausted state in the morning and his having slept through the whole of the latter part of the day.

As he thought again of the fateful conference, he got out the letter signed by the Comte de Montmorin and re-read it. When he had done so it struck him more forcibly than ever how extraordinarily fortunate he was to have secured such a document. Despite his periodical com­munications to the mysterious Mr. Gilbert Maxwell, the British Government might well hesitate to accept his bare word as conclusive evidence on a matter of such extreme significance. In view of the Commercial Treaty with France and their greatly improved relations with that country, it seemed certain that his revelations would come as an appalling shock to them; and doubt that he could possibly be right would almost certainly prevent them from taking any positive action until his statements could be verified. Yet in some immediate demarche, such as an ultimatum, lay their only hope of preventing the French from seizing the Dutch ports.

He realised now that, had he arrived in London as he had originally planned, he would have had little hope of saving the situation; whereas if he could do so with the letter, so damning were its contents and the signature of the Foreign Minister whoever saw it could not possibly require any further evidence of France's intentions, and there would be a real hope of averting war.

Rolling the precious parchment up into a thick tubular spill he tied a piece of string round it and then made a loop of the string to go round his neck, so that it should hang there like a locket and there would be no risk of it being lost by being inadvertently jerked out of one of his pockets. Then he took off the sapphire ring as being too valuable a gem for an ordinary ship's officer to wear, and tied that also to the string about his neck.

About seven o'clock he had his cold meal and drank the bottle of rich white Chateau Coutet, from the estate of the Marquis de Lur Saluces, that he had bought to wash it down. Then at half-past eight he blew out his candle and soon fell asleep.

He woke as the first pale streaks of dawn filtered through the flimsy curtains and, scrambling out of bed, went to the window. It was still raining, but gently, and the wind had dropped. His impulse was to dress at once but, knowing that no boats would put out until the sea had gone down, he restrained his impulse and went back to bed.

At seven o'clock a slatternly maid brought his petit dejeuner. After eating it he got up, dressed, and went down to the port. There was still little activity there and the packet-boat, lying alongside her jetty, showed no signs of preparing to put to sea. Near the landward end of the jetty there was a large notice-board and, thinking that a notice might have been put up there giving some information about sailings, he walked over to it.

A thick-set, middle-aged man with heavy eyebrows, was already standing in front of the board, reading a large placard occupying nearly half its area, which, from its cleanness, could only recently have been pasted up. As Roger came up beside the man and his eyes fastened on the notice, his stomach seemed to turn over. It read:

ONE THOUSAND LOUIS REWARD

Attention! A felon of exceptional ferocity and baseness is urgently sought by the Government. Five hundred Louis d'Or will be paid by M. le Comte de Crosne, His Majesty's Lieutenant of Police, or by any accredited agents of the Crown, for information leading to the securing of the person, dead or alive, of one ROGER BROOK

The above is an Englishman, giving himself out to be the son of a British Admiral, and a nephew of the Earl of Kildonan. Yet he speaks French with the fluency of one bom in this country and has passed for several years as a native of the province of Alsace, under the name of BREUC.

The man wanted is tall and slim. He is about twenty-one years of age, having a fine figure, pleasant, expressive countenance and good complexion. His hair, worn long, is dark brown, his eyes a striking deep blue with dark lashes. His nose is straight, his chin firm and he has good teeth.

He dresses with elegance and has the manners of a person of quality. When last seen he was wearing a plum-coloured satin coat, flowered waistcoat, red twill riding breeches, brown Hessian boots, and lace ruffles and jabot.

A further reward of five hundred Louis d'Or will be paid to anyone returning a stolen document that the above-described felon is believed to be carrying on his person. The said document is a letter signed by M. le Comte de Montmorin, His Majesty's Foreign Minister.

The aforesaid ROGER BROOK alias BREUC, is required to answer to charges of murder, theft and treason. Attention!

ONE THOUSAND LOUIS REWARD

The reward offered was an extraordinarily high one, showing how concerned Roger's enemies were to effect his capture, and he had to admit that the de Rochambeaux had been generous enough in their description of him; but for all that the portrait Was damnably accurate and he was conscious of a rising wave of fright at the thought that everyone he met could hardly fail to recognise him from it.

On remembering that he had at least had the sense to change his clothes he gave vent to a sigh of relief; but, next second, he was seized with consternation. The thick-set man beside him had turned and was staring at his face.

Suddenly the man spoke: "You fit that description strangely well, Monsieur. I've rarely seen such deep blue eyes as yours."

With an effort Roger forced a smile. "Nay. I'm an honest seafarer, and my purse has never run to satin coats or lace folderols."

"You might have shed those overnight," said the man, meditatively. "You're the right height, too, and have just shown me two sets of good even teeth."

Roger could not divine if the fellow really suspected him or regarded his likeness to the description as pure coincidence; until, with a sudden narrowing of his close-set eyes, the man went on:

"What would you be doing down here at the jetty in this weather, eh? Sang de Dieu! I believe you're this English murderer, trying to get away to your own damned island!"

With his heart in his boots Roger gave a swift glance round. They were hidden from the greater part of the quay by the wooden offices of the Packet Boat Company. At the moment there was no one in sight, but the man looked tough and brawny. He might put up an ugly fight and raise the alarm before he could be knocked out; and Roger knew how swiftly a mob could suddenly congregate at the least excitement in an apparently empty street. He decided that he must keep his head and try to bluff it out.

Listen to me, mon ami," he said, with sudden sternness. "You have this matter wrong. If you wish I will accompany you to the office of police and prove to them before you that I am one Julien Quatrevaux of Rennes, a Breton by birth and second officer of the India trader, Tobago Queen, now lying in Le Havre. But to do so it will be necessary to send for papers to my lodgings, which are at the far end of the town, and my whole morning will be lost. I have a seat booked in the diligence to carry me back to Le Havre. If I miss it I'll not be there by nightfall and my ship may sail without me. That would put me to considerable loss as well as great inconvenience. Should I be so sub­jected on account of your wild fancies I will not only sue you for detaining me without warrant and for the loss I shall sustain, but seek you out later with a seaman's cudgel and beat you to within an inch of your life. Now! Do you wish to gamble your absurd imaginings against these penalties, or not?"

The man hesitated. One thousand louis was an enormous reward; to a poor man it was a fortune. But the account given by his vis-a-vis of himself seemed solidly circumstantial and, if true, threatened to land him in endless trouble. After a moment he shrugged, and said:

"Monsieur, I meant no offence. But you must admit that you are like enough to the description of this felon to raise anyone's suspicions."

"That may be!" replied Roger tersely, "but I am not he. Good day to you," and, turning on his heel he walked firmly, but unhurriedly, away.

His bluff had worked; nevertheless the encounter had shaken him badly. It was all he could do to control his pace and prevent himself looking back to see if the man had run off in search of an agent de ville. Turning into the first side street he came to, the instant he was out of sight round the corner, he took to his heels.

When he eased his pace half a mile farther on, and dropped into a walk, he was white and breathless. He knew now that whether the packet sailed or not from Dieppe that evening it would be fatal for him even to go near her jetty again; as the man might be lying in wait for him there with a police agent. Moreover, although the storm had passed, he dared not seek out the fishing-masters and ask one of them to take him across. Too many of them had seen him on the Tuesday in the clothes in which he had come from Paris and, on seeing him again, would undoubtedly connect him with the description of the wanted felon, which must now be the talk of the harbourside. By now, too, tile roan horse must have been found, proving that he had chosen Dieppe for his attempt to reach England; so every moment he remained there he would be in imminent peril of recognition and capture. Clearly he must get away from the town at the earnest possible moment.

During his flight he had lost himself, but glimpsing the sea through a narrow alley he turned along it and, having reached the esplanade, soon found his way back to his lodgings. On his way there he made up his mind to move along the coast, in the hope of finding a vessel in a smaller harbour, where there were no trails of his presence to make the place so piping hot for him. Having collected his bag he settled with the fat landlady and, leaving the town by its south-western exit, took the road to Fecamp.

As soon as he was out of sight from the last houses of Dieppe he climbed over some sand dunes until he found a convenient hollow and set about redisguising himself as well as he could. His alarming experi­ence with the thick-set man had convinced him that he still looked too like a gentleman and that he would do better to give himself a more villainous appearance. Taking off his topcoat and the square-crowned bowler he buried them in the sand, and put on again the old cloak and the stocking-cap; but, before adjusting the latter he tied a folded silk handkerchief round his forehead and pulled it down over one of his tell-tale blue eyes as though it was a bandage.

Proceeding on his way again he endeavoured to think up further measures by which he might trick M. de Crosne's bloodhounds. The fact that he had been advertised as an Englishman speaking French like a native, suddenly struck him. Clearly they would be inquiring for a man who appeared to be a Frenchman, and certainly not one who admitted to being English. Therefore, he might fox them by a double bluff if he gave out that he was English and spoke only a little very bad French.

After another mile or so he had supplemented this idea by deciding to infer that he was an English smuggler who had got left behind on a recent trip. The fact that he had decided against parting with his sword, and the bandage that he now wore over one eye, already lent him the air of a seafaring desperado. The smugglers brought good money to the coastal villages and so were regarded as friends by the fisher-folk; and, wanting to get home, would provide him with an excellent reason for seeking a passage across the Channel.

Having spent so many hours in bed during the past two days and nights he was fully recovered from the fatigue of his long ride and, the sun having come out, he tramped along in better spirits than he had been for some time. Soon after midday he stopped for a meal at a wayside inn and, having rested for an hour, pushed on. By five o'clock in the afternoon he had walked eighteen miles and entered the little port of St. Valery-en-Caux.

To his intense annoyance he saw that the harbour was almost empty and standing out to sea a cluster of about fifteen vessels. It could only be the fishing-fleet, and must have sailed about an hour before.

As he approached the quay he saw that a couple of longshoremen were in the process of loading fresh vegetables on to a two-masted barque. To reach it he had to pass the customs office and, on the notice board outside it, he caught sight of another of those damnable placards offering one thousand louis for his capture, dead or alive.

The sight of it almost unnerved him and caused him to turn tail; but he realised that by this time there would be one of them posted up on every quayside from Dunkirk to Brest and that if he was to get away at all he must, sooner or later, chance recognition in endeavouring to secure a passage. He knew that by far his safest course would have been to go into hiding for a few weeks; but that was impossible, unless he were prepared to give up his attempt to prevent the seizure of the Dutch ports, and that, nothing would have induced him to do.

Bracing himself for the encounter he slouched up to the bigger of the two longshoremen, and asked in mangled French and English when the barque was due to sail, and whither she was bound.

"She'll sail on the night tide, round four of the morning," the man replied. "That is, if the weather holds; but it's none too promising and the fishing-fleet has put out for a few hours only because it's been weather-bound these past two days. The barque is carrying a mixed cargo to Falmouth."

Roger pretended not to fully understand and while the man repeated the information for him more slowly he was thinking; 'Falmouth is a devilish long way from London and I have already been three days on my journey. The crossing will take the best part of two days, and from Cornwall to London thirty hours at least. Allowing for unforeseen delays 'tis unlikely that I'll get to Whitehall before the morning of the 5th of September; That will leave the Cabinet a margin of only four dear days in which to act. Still, better that than no chance at all, and I suppose I'll be lucky if I can induce the Captain to take me.'

Having thanked the man he inquired the Captain's name and, on being told that it was Rapenot, he walked with a rolling gait up the gang-plank.

Captain Rapenot was in his cabin. He proved to be a tall, grizzled fellow with gold rings in his ears and a hook in place of a left arm. He looked up from his bills of lading and greeted Roger with a none-too-friendly stare.

To maintain his rdle of seaman, Roger opened the conversation by asking if he could do with an extra hand.

The captain shook his grizzled head. "No. I've a full crew for this trip; and you're an Englishman, aren't you?"

On Roger admitting it, he went on gruffly: "I've no love for the English. 'Twas a round shot from an English frigate that took off my left arm, so I never take on an English hand unless I'm forced to. Get you gone!"

Seeing his chance slipping Roger broke into a swift, garbled version of his story. Then he urged that the war had been over for nearly five years and that malice for ills inflicted in it should not be allowed to rankle for so long; and finally, producing his purse, offered to pay for his passage.

"How much have you there?" asked Captain Rapenot, in a slightly mollified tone.

"Seven louis and a few odd francs," replied Roger in the atrocious French that he was using. "I can ill afford to part with my savings, but I'll give you five louis."

"Nay; but I'll take you for the seven."

"Then I'd land near penniless," Roger protested. "Make it six?" "Seven, and not a sou less," insisted the Captain. "If I agree will you give me a cabin to myself, and treat me as a passenger?"

"Yes. I'll do that. I'm not shipping a third mate, so you can have his cabin, and feed at my table. You must pay me the money now, though. I'll not risk your skipping ship when we reach port."

So the harsh bargain was struck. With great reluctance Roger counted out the coins on the table, knowing that if anything prevented the barque from sailing it was highly unlikely that he would be able to induce the avaricious Captain to give them back; and that he would then find himself in the most desperate straits that any man can be— a fugitive without resources.

Having swept up the money and thrust it into his pocket Rapenot took him along a narrow passage under the low poop, kicked open a door exposing a cubby hole three-quarters of which was occupied by a bunk, and left him.

Roger's relief at having secured a passage was only equalled by his anxiety to see the barque leave port. Each hour up to nightfall seemed as long as a day, and those that followed scarcely less so. He had nothing with which to occupy himself and while, on the one hand, he feared to show his face to more people than was positively necessary, on the other he felt that as long as daylight lasted to shut himself up in his miserable little cabin might arouse suspicion.

From hanging about the extremities of the ship in a seemingly endless ordeal of waiting he had only one respite. At six o'clock he was summoned aft to sup with the Captain and the two mates. The first officer was a taciturn Norman and the second a short, black-bearded Marseillaise. Both of them obviously went in dread of the hook-armed Rapenot, so the meal was not a convivial'one.

At midnight Roger thought of turning in; but he knew that he would not be able to sleep until the ship was well on her way, so he remained up and spent the remaining hours pacing the deck. As he did so he was in constant anxiety about the weather, knowing that if it showed signs of deteriorating Rapenot would not sail. It seemed to him that the wind was freshening a little but, to his overwhelming relieft shortly before four o'clock the bosun piped all hands to their stations.

St. Valery was only a little harbour, so ships of even the barque's moderate size were infrequent visitors to it, and it took nearly an hour of careful manoeuvring before she was clear of the bar; but by five o'clock her sails were set and she was feeling the swell of the sea. At last Roger was able to go to his narrow cabin and, worn out with anxiety, flung himself down fully dressed on the bunk to sleep.

He slept till nearly midday and, when he woke, his first conscious thought was that they were in for a bad crossing. The ship was rolling with a nasty twist and rain was spattering on the porthole. Getting up he lurched along to the filthy wash-place, freshened himself up as well as he could, then made his way to the main cabin, which also served as the officers' dining-room.

The Captain and the second mate were just sitting down to their midday meal, and both appeared to be in an evil temper. It transpired that the barque would not have sailed the previous night had she not already been overdue at Falmouth, and now Rapenot was regretting his decision. Roger remained silent and pretended not to understand most of what was said. He was thanking all his gods that some perishable cargo had forced Rapenot to sail against his better judgment and felt that he, personally, would not mind if the ship made the voyage on her beam ends, provided only that she landed him in England. But he was destined to feel very differently about it before many hours were gone.

During the early part of the afternoon he could think of little else than the miracle of his preservation through the past few days, and his ruminations on his escape from death at the hands of de Caylus, being seized by the de Rochambeaux, or captured by M. de Crosne's agents, did much to stifle his awareness of the increased heaving of the deck. But as the day wore on sail after sail was lowered, until with bare masts and the wind howling through the naked rigging 'the barque was driving before the storm.

As the wave-crests grew higher the horizon became ever more limited, so that by dusk the ship seemed to be the centre of a tiny world apart and utterly isolated in a cauldron of foaming, boiling waters.

Roger had imagined himself to be a good sailor, but now he knew that he was not. As he clung to a stanchion for support he was desperately sick. Miserable, and furious at his lack of control over himself, he crawled to his cabin; but worse was to follow for, although he had unloaded his midday meal, he found that he continued to strain and vomit in bouts of soul-shattering nausea.

The next twenty-four hours proved a worse nightmare than any­thing he could conceivably have conjured up in his wildest imagination, and he was not even left alone in his agony. At some time in the early hours of the following morning Captain Rapenot kicked open the door of his cabin and called on him to lend a hand manning the pumps as the forward hatch cover had been torn off by the gale and every wave that now hit the ship was slopping over into the hold.

It was not from any lack of willingness to help, but from exhaustion, that Roger remained deaf to the Captain's shouts and continued to lay inert. But his condition did not save him. Asking him what kind of a sailor he pretended to be, Rapenot came at him with a curse and, lifting a length of rope with a spliced Turk's-head at the end of it, he struck him half a dozen savage blows about the legs and body.

With a moan, Roger struggled to his feet and strove to ward off further punishment; but in his present state he was no match for the brutal Captain, who, still beating him about the back and shoulders, drove him forward along the slanting deck.

While he laboured with his last strength at the pumps the water swirled terrifyingly round his knees, and his anguish was such that he genuinely wished that the ship would founder, so that he might escape his torment in death. How long he stuck it he never knew, but he must have collapsed and been carried back to his cabin for, when he was next conscious of his surroundings, he found himself sprawled on his bunk again.

All day the storm continued and twice, during it, Rapenot mercilessly drove him out to do further spells at the pumps. But before he started on his third spell one of the crew gave him a mug of black coffee laced with brandy, which he managed to keep down, and after that he felt better.

The storm had eased and as he churned the iron handles of the creak­ing pump with three stalwart matelots his sense of humour came back to him. It crossed his mind how incongruous it was that the elegant M. le Chevalier de Breuc, whose name must by now be the talk of Versailles as the conqueror in single combat of the redoubtable Comte de Caylus, should find himself being kicked around like a galley-slave. He also had another thought. It was, how incredibly right he had been in refusing to go to sea; since, if it could be like this at the beginning of September, it must hold the torments of the seventh hell for those who had to face it during the icy months of winter.

That night he was called on no further and slept right through till eleven o'clock next morning. When he awoke, to his surprise, he felt none too bad and soon discovered that he was hungry. On going out on deck he saw that the sea had gone down and that the barque was now riding on an oily swell under half sail. One glance across the slippery green waters showed him, too, that they were in sight of land. His heart leapt with the knowledge that it must be England.

Eight bells sounded soon afterwards, so he went in to the main cabin. The black-bearded Marseillais was there, and while they waited for Rapenot to appear, so that the service of the meal could begin, he gave Roger the situation. The sou'-wester had driven them many miles off their course and they were now beating west along the coast of Sussex.

Roger had again temporarily lost count of time but a swift check up told him that to-day was Sunday the 3rd. To his consternation he realised that it would be six full days that night since he had left Paris, yet, owing to the storm he was no nearer to reaching London than he had been when at St. Valery, and it would now be the seventh before he could get his precious paper to Whitehall. Even if the Cabinet acted instantly it seemed highly improbable that they would be able to get instructions to the British Minister at The Hague in time for him to make a bid to stop the revolt planned for the tenth.

Rapenot came in and, while they were eating, made some sarcastic references to Roger's poor showing as a seaman, but he took refuge in his avowed scant knowledge of French and pretended not to under­stand. And he was much too perturbed about the delay, which now threatened to wreck the object of his journey, to care.

When he went out on deck again all sail was set and, owing to the configuration of the coast, the barque was now considerably nearer to it than she had been in the morning. By two o'clock she was off the eastern end of the Isle of Wight and Roger was picking out familiar beauty spots with a futile longing for wings with which to reach them. Yet it was not until they were passing St. Catherine's Point, at the southern extremity of the island, that he was suddenly seized with a brilliant idea. Why should he not get Captain Rapenot to turn into the bay to the west of the island, lower a boat, and put him ashore.

The instant the idea came to him he realised that the advantages it offered were immense. From Lymington he could, at a push, ride to London overnight, and give the Cabinet a clear six days in which to make their intentions known with regard to the United Provinces. More, if he landed at Falmouth, it would be with only a few francs in his pocket. He knew no one there and might suffer the most infuriating delays and difficulties in raising the money or credit necessary before he could even set out for London. Whereas Lymington was his home. His mother was certain to have a few guineas in the house that she could lend him. He could borrow a horse from the stables and be off within the hour. To land there would make all the difference between success and failure.

Then his mind flashed to Rapenot. The grizzled, hook-armed Captain was a surly devil and about as disobliging as any man could be. There seamed only one way to get round nun, which was to buy his complaisance, and Roger's pockets were near empty. Suddenly he thought again of de Caylus's ring. That ought to do the trick.

Undoing his coat he pulled out the end of the string that hung round his neck, undid it, took oS the ring and slipped it into his pocket; then he retied the string and thrust back the precious document that was still attached to it. Walking over to the deck-house, in which the Captain was talking to his Marseillais second mate, he thrust in his head and said: "Captain, a word with you, if you please."

Rapenot got up from the wooden bench on which he was sitting and came to the door. "Well?" he said, "what would you?"

Roger politely touched his stocking-cap, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "My home is no great distance from here, not far from Southampton, and 'twould be a great boon if you could put me ashore somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Needles."

The Captain's Up curled. "Why should I go out of my way for such as you? This unseasonable weather has already lost me five days on my trip to Falmouth, and a part of my cargo is rotting in the hold. I've not,time to give to landing passengers."

"Oh, cornel" expostulated Roger, pointing to a small, broad-beamed yacht that was lapping briskly through the water off their starboard beam. "You have but to slacken sail a Uttle and hail yonder yacht. Those in it wiU come alongside and take me off without a doubt."

"I'll slacken sail for no one," declared Rapenot gruffly, "I bargained to take you to Falmouth and I'll take you there; but I'll be damned if I'll lose a breath of this wind to pleasure anyone."

Roger produced the sapphire ring. '"Tis worth a lot to me to reach my home speedily. I'm mighty loath to part with this, but I'll give it you if you'll do as I wish."

Rapenot's eyes narrowed at the sight of the valuable jewel. "If that is a genuine stone 'tis worth the profits on a dozen voyages," he said slowly.

"'Tis genuine!" declared Roger. "I'll take my oath on that."

The Marseillais had come up behind his Captain. With a suspicious glance at Roger, he remarked: "The Englishman must have some desperately urgent business ashore to offer such a gem."

"The Englishman!" exclaimed Rapenot, a sudden fight dawning in his eyes. "Mort de ma vie! He is the felon mentioned in the pro­clamation that we read!"

"Ventre du diable! You are right!" cried the Marseillais. "I recognise him from the description now."

"Seize him," Rapenot bellowed, starting forward. "If we throw him in the hold and take him back to France we'll reap the thousand louis reward!"

For a second Roger was dumbfounded by this unexpected and horri­fying outcome of his plan. During all the agonising discomforts of the past two days he had thought himself safe at least from meeting his end on a French scaffold. Yet now he was menaced once again by the ignominious doom of a felon. If they got him they would bind and gag him and he might he for days in Falmouth harbour, a prisoner in some stinking hole, without a hope of escape. The thought of being taken when so near his goal and actually within sight of England was unendurable. As they came at him he thrust the ring into his pocket, leapt back, and drew his sword.

Both the Frenchmen had drawn their knives. Rapenot threw a glance over his shoulder and called to the helmsman. "Antoine! Leave the wheel! Summon the bos'n! Tell him to get the muskets!"

Roger knew then that he had not a moment to lose. Without waiting to be attacked he sailed in with a lightning lunge at Rapenot.

To his joy the blade pierced the Captain through the shoulder, causing him to drop his knife with a screech of pain.

But the wily Marseillais, crouching low, ran in under Roger's sword and thrust upwards with his knife.

Only the roll of the ship saved Roger from taking the stab in the stomach. The dip of the swell caused him to take a pace backward as he wrenched free his sword. Then, with a swift recovery, he turned to face his second antagonist.

Shouts and calls now came from the body of the vessel. Few of the crew who had been standing there knew what the fracas was about, but, on seeing their officers attacked, they came swarming towards the ladders that led up to the poop.

His eyes gleaming Roger lunged again. The point of his sword caught the Marseillais beneath the chin, and, with a howl, the man staggered back, clasping at his bleeding neck.

Having temporarily freed himself from his two attackers Roger turned and jumped for the ship's side. The nearest member of the crew had only just tumbled on to the break of the poop, but Rapenot had picked up his knife and was coming at him again.

Throwing one leg over the low bulwark Roger suddenly swung round, leaned inboard and delivered another thrust. Rapenot threw up his hook, but too late; the flashing blade, forced upwards by his own gesture of defence, ripped his face from the chin to the corner of his eye.

Roger jerked back his sword, seized its sheath with his left hand, fumbled for a moment, then rammed it home. As he did so the foremost sailor came at him brandishing a heavy belaying-pin, but when he lashed out it whistled through empty air. Ducking the blow Roger heaved himself over the side and fell with a splash into the water.

He went down, down, down; steadied, came up and, as his head emerged, gave a gasp. He knew that he was far from being out of danger. As he had swung himself overboard several of the crew, led by the bos'n, had been running across the deck with muskets and pistols in their hands; and he was over a mile from the shore.

His only hope lay in the little yacht that had been bobbing along a quarter of a mile off their beam. He had glimpsed it just before he hit the water. Their attention caught by the shouts and fighting on the poop of the barque the yacht's crew had put her over on a leeward tack, in order to get closer and see what was happening.

Striking out towards her Roger raised himself in the water and gave a shout: "A moi! A moi!"

Then he suddenly remembered that he was swimming in his own home waters, and yelled: "Help! Help! I am an Englishman! Help! Rescue!"

A musket banged in his rear, then another. One of the balls sent up a spurt of water within a foot of his head; but the people in the yacht had heard him, and were now urging him on with cries of encouragement.

A wave slapped into his face and momentarily blinded him. For no accountable reason a mental picture of Georgina passed before his physically sightless eyes. He saw her as he had seen her over four years before, on that unforgettable afternoon, telling his fortune by gazing into a glass of water. She was saying: "You are in great danger. You are swimming with a valuable document held between your teeth."

Instantly he recalled the vital letter. If it got soaked through the ink would run and it might become illegible. Turning on his back he fumbled with the buttons at his neck, undid them and pulled out the little roll of parchment. As two more of the men in the barque fired at him he gripped it with his teeth, rolled over, and struck out for the yacht again.

She was almost on him now and he recognised the man who was standing at the tiller in her stern. It was old General Cleveland of Vickers Hill. The veteran had gone purple in the face with rage. He was shaking his fist at the sailors in the barque and roaring at them.

"Damn you for a lot of besotted Frogs! How dare you take up arms in British waters! I'm a Magistrate! I'll have the law on you! I'll have the Navy out, and have you flogged, keel-hauled and shot for this. So help me God, you bloody pirates, I'll teach you to fire on an Englishman!"

The old man's bellowing came as the most divine music to Roger's ears. A moment later a young man whom he did not know, hauled him in over the yacht's bow. Flopping on to the bottom boards he lay there panting.

The General, still quivering with indignation, continued to roar curses and threats at the men in the barque. He appeared entirely oblivious of the fact that he was unarmed and a fine target for their bullets, or that it was improbable that they understood one word of what he was yelling at them. His attitude was enough. As the barque sailed on and the yacht dropped astern they leaned over the side, their weapons in their hands, gazing stupidly at him; but they did not fire again.

Still gasping, Roger got to his feet and scrambled aft. With a wide grin he panted: "You were just in time, Sir; and I'm mightily grateful to you. The rough side of the tongue of a British General was the very thing those rogues needed."

The General stared at him in surprise. "So you know me, eh? Who the hell are you?" Then the light of recognition dawned in his eyes. "Why! God bless my soul if it's not Christopher Brook's boy! Well, I'll be damned!"

The crew of the yacht proved to be the General's two nephews and, as the old man turned his craft back towards the Solent, Roger gave them the most abbreviated version of his story that he could think of; which was little more than that he had been chased out of France on account of a duel that he had fought and that the Captain of the barque had attempted to prevent his landing at Lymington.

At a quarter to six he was thanking his rescuers once more, and a moment later, he stepped ashore on to British soil, glowing with the knowledge that he had now pulled off his great coup, and could reach London in ample time for the Cabinet to take action.

Half walking, half running, he hurried up the short hill and along the avenue of hmes towards his home. The postern gate in the high west wall was ajar. As he slipped inside he saw his mother only thirty feet away cutting dahlias in her flower border. Slamming the door too behind him he ran forward shouting: "Mother! Mother, darling!"

Lady Marie turned, gave one look at the tall, wet, bedraggled, looking stranger, dropped her basket, and cried: "My bairn! My bairn!"

Next moment she was weeping for joy in her big son's arms.

Five minutes later Roger was stripping off his sopping outer garments in the kitchen of the house, while the cook, Polly, and another maid, whom he did not know, all fussed round preparing a hot posset, that his mother insisted he must drink at once to ward off a chill.

When he asked if she had any of his old things still that he could slip on, she laughed up at him: "My darling, thou hast forgotten the passing of the years. So fine a man could ne'er get into the things of the dear, headstrong boy I lost so long ago. Go to thy father's room, rub thyself down well and borrow one of his dressing-gowns; then join me in my drawing-room, for I can scarce bear to wait to hear thy news."

Having done as she bid him, the moment he entered the drawing-room, he said: "I see my father's things about upstairs, so take it he is in residence. How are his feelings now towards me?"

Her smile gave place to an anxious look. "I fear, m'dear, that they remain unchanged. After you left us he forbade me ever to mention your name to him again. He is over at Pylewell now, dining with Mr. Robbins, and will not be back till half-past eight or nine. Yet now that you are returned I beg that you wul face him, Roger, and strive to heal the breach. It breaks my heart that my two dear ones should remain divided by this old quarrel."

"I will," he promised. "But not to-night; for I must be on my way to London within the hour."

"So soon!" she cried.

He nodded. "Yes, dearest. I'll need to borrow a suit of my father's clothes and a horse from the stables, also such money as you can lend me; for my need is desperately urgent. But I promise you I will come back as soon as my business is completed and do my best to make my peace, for your sake even more than for my own."

"This business, Roger," she hazarded. "Can you tell me of it? Up to last month your letters have kept me informed of your doings. But 'tis mighty surprising that you should return like this, in a poor seaman's clothes and involved in some desperate matter."

He told her then about his duel and that just before he had been compelled to fly from Paris he had secured certain information which he believed would prove of great value to the Government.

She smiled when he had done. " Twas just like my brave lad to save that poor maid from so loathsome a marriage. And I cannot think that your returning penniless will adversely affect the prospects of your healing the breach with your father. In fact, it may soften him more than if you had come back to us a rich man, bringing us splendid presents."

"Apart from the immediate future I'll have no need to beg of him or you," Roger assured her. "My four years in France have at least taught me how to support myself. And from the experience I've gained, I doubt not that I'll soon secure a good position with some man of affairs. But, much as I would love to, I must not linger now. While I go up and dress I pray you, dearest, have prepared for me some sort of meal."

Half an hour later, booted and spurred for the road, he was tucking into good honest English fare while his mother fussed about him.

When he had done she gave him fifteen guineas and said: "I've not been able to have a mount saddled for you, as Jim Button is attending his cousin's wedding over at Beaulieu. But there is the brown mare you used to ride in the stable, and a fine chestnut that your father bought recently. Best take the mare, though, for I think the chestnut needs shoeing."

Having thanked her he kissed her fondly and hurried from the house. It was getting on for eight o'clock, and dark now; but he knew from of old where the stable lantern hung, and that on the shelf below it he would find flint and tinder.

Inside the stable it was pitch-black, but his fumbling fingers soon found what they sought and, striking a light, he lit the lantern.

As he took it from its hook he heard a sudden movement in his rear. Swinging half round he glimpsed a tall figure coming at him. For a second the flickering candle in the lantern threw up a monstrous shadow on the wall and ceiling. Its upper part outlined cloaked shoulders, a hard, conical, flat-crowned hat, and a hand holding a bludgeon.

The blow caught Roger on the side of the head. He reeled, dropped the lantern and fell. As the light went out the figure hurled itself on top of him. Hands grabbed his throat and, lifting his head bashed the back of it again and again against the stones. With each crack his efforts to defend himself grew weaker. His consciousness slipped from him and his body went limp.

When he came to, a few minutes later, his hands and feet were tied with stout cord and a handkerchief, its ends tied behind his head, gagged his widely stretched mouth. His attacker was kneeling above him softly cursing in French as he thrust his hands into one after the other of his victim's pockets.

Finding nothing he undid the top of Roger's waistcoat and, with a cry of triumph, pulled out the little roll of parchment. As he severed the string he muttered to himself: "Praises he that my instinct was right. By to-morrow morning I'll have earned me more than two year's income from this."

Roger was still only half conscious and incapable of movement. As the man left him he strove to collect his wits, but only one coherent thought flickered in his bemused mind. In some utterly inexplicable manner he had been beaten at the post, and that with the loss of the document his best hopes of saving his country had been shattered.

CHAPTER XXV

THE MYSTERIOUS FRENCHMAN

ROGER'S head felt as though it was splitting. Both its back, and the side on which he had received the first blow, hurt intolerably. He heard the clopping of a horse's hoofs as his attacker led one of the animals out of the stable and a faint light filtered in through the doorway. Then the door was closed, the darkness became pitch again; there came the faint clink of the horse's shoes on the cobbles of the yard and, after a moment, silence.

Making an effort he jerked at his bonds; but each time he did so a spasm of pain shot through his head; so that he was forced to give up and lie quite still for a while, until the throbbing of his temples gradually eased. At length the stabs became less insistent and gave way to a dull ache.

Wriggling up into a sitting position he tried again to free first his hands, then his feet; but both seemed to have been tied by an expert. The thin, tough cord bit into his wrists and ankles and all his efforts failed to loosen its painful grip.

Forced to give up he relaxed and fell to wondering who it could conceivably have been that had attacked him. The expert knotting of the cords that bound him made him suspect one of the sailors from the barque. He could not imagine how any of them had managed to get ashore and trace him to his home, yet that seemed the only possible explanation.

One thing was plain; for the best part of two hours that evening, since his landing at Lymington, he had held a trump card for preventing disaster to his country firmly in his hand. He could have taken it straight to the Mayor, or one of the local justices, for safe keeping and had a sworn copy made; and now he had lost it. Yet he could not feel himself to blame, since, having once stepped ashore, he had had not the remotest reason to suppose there was any risk of having the document taken from him.

Its loss was all the more infuriating in that he had, after all, made good time in reaching England. The journey from Paris had taken him just under six days. It was still only the 3rd of September, and the Dutch Republicans were not due to rise until the xoth, so had he been able to get the letter to Whitehall by the following morning the Government would have had ample time to act. Whereas now, without the letter to verify his statement, it was a hundred to one that they would lose their opportunity while seeking confirmation from other sources of his seemingly incredible story.

He wondered how long he had been lying there, and thought that it must be at least an hour, although it seemed much longer. Then he heard the ring of iron horseshoes on the cobbles again. The stable door was pushed open, the starlight filtered in, and he saw two shadowy forms come through the opening.

At first they did not see him and, since he was tightly gagged, he could not cry out. One of them groped for the lantern and swore at not finding it in its accustomed place. After a moment the flint was struck and a dim glow from the tinder revealed the lantern lying smashed upon the floor.

The figure swore again, picked it up and lit the candle. As he did so the light flickered on Roger's bound feet.

"Hell's bells!" exclaimed his father's voice. "Jim! There's a man here and he's trussed like a fowl. What in thunder's been going on here in our absence! 'Tis as well we met at the gate. Hitch the horses' bridles to the door latch, and take this lantern while I cut the fellow free."

As the Admiral got out his pocket knife Jim Button raised the lantern so that it shone on Roger's face.

"Swelp me, Bobl" he cried suddenly. "I believe he be Master Roger!"

"Shiver my timbers!" bellowed the Admiral, "so it is!"

With swift, sure strokes he severed the cords that bound Roger, then undid the knot of the handkerchief that gagged him. Roger lurched to his feet but his mouth was so sore that he could not speak for a moment. His father caught his arm and said:

"Steady, boyl Take it easy! Yours is the strangest home-coming that ever was. But, by God, your dear mother will be mightily pleased to see you. Let's to the house."

It was true enough that, however either of them might have envisaged a reunion, neither had ever dreamed that it would occur in such extraordinary circumstances, and one which made it so natural that the Admiral should accept his errant son's return without loss of dignity.

Roger ran his tongue round his sore mouth and muttered: "I've already seen her, Sir. I was about to saddle a horse and set out for London when I was attacked, an hour or so ago."

"What!" boomed the Admiral. "Dost mean to say that having returned after all these years you meant to shear off again without seeing me?"

"I'd intended to return as soon as possible," said Roger warmly, giving his father's arm a quick squeeze. "But I landed from France only at six o'clock, and must get with all speed to London on Mr. Gilbert Maxwell's business."

His father gave him a sharp glance. "Ah! That's different; and 'tis good to hear that you put nothing before your duty, lad. But come to the house and tell me how it is I came to find you in such dire straits."

Jim Button suddenly broke in. "The last time I seed 'e, Master Roger, was the day the Admiral come home from the wars. 'Tis good to see 'e ag'in, an' here's hopin' 'e'll be with us for as long a spell as he."

"Thanks, Jim," Roger took the groom's hand and shook it. "I'll be back by mid-week, I trust; and we 11 have some great rides together. When you've watered the horses and rugged them up, would you saddle my mare and bring her round to the front, so that I can get off without delay?"

"That I will, Master Roger," came the cheerful response, and, with linked arms, father and son left the stable yard.

Lady Marie's distress at Roger's unexpected return in such a battered state was almost instantly overcome by her joy at seeing her two loved ones arm-in-arm like two long-lost brothers. Having quickly examined Roger's head, she pronounced his injuries only superficial, but hurried off to fetch warm water, lint and bandages.

The Admiral was in a high good humour. He had dined well at Pylewell and his face was ruddy with port and good cheer. As the door closed behind his wife, he said, jokingly, to Roger: "Well, boy; hast fortune favoured thee on thy travels? Are thy pockets bursting with good golden louis?"

Roger laughed. " Twould ill become me to complain against the dame; since for a year past I've enjoyed an income of two hundred and forty louis with all found, horses to ride and servants to wait on me, in the house of a powerful noble. But, through a twist of the wheel, I had to leave all that behind me and I return to you like the proverbial bad penny, a veritable pauper. So I'll be dependent on your generosity for a month or two, till I can secure new employment."

"Think not a thing of that," smiled the Admiral, with a wave of his hand. "You did monstrous well to achieve such a position unaided. But you have no call to seek another. I'm a rich man now, my lad, and can well afford to support an only son. I can give you an income of three hundred and not miss the money."

"Have you come into a fortune, then?" exclaimed Roger in amazement.

"Nay," the Admiral grinned. " 'Tis prize money, accruing from the sale of all the ships that I captured during the long years of war. Their Lordships were plaguey slow in paying it out; but what with Frenchmen, Spaniards, Dutchmen, and the rest, I've netted thousands; as have most other British Captains. You'll not have noticed in the dark, maybe, but I'm building two more rooms on to the house; a fine, lofty dining-room, and an equally spacious bedroom above it for yourself."

"For me!" Roger gasped. "That will be the meaning of the scaffolding I saw, then, as I entered the house with my mother. But how could you know that I'd return, Sir?"

"I knew you'd come back sooner or later," averred the Admiral. "Ill not deny that your refusing to enter the Navy was a bitter blow to me. But since you had the spirit to go your own way, 'twas as good as certain that you'd not haul down your flag, and one day come sailing into port like a good mariner. I'd not encourage your mother to hope on that, but I've been waiting to splice the mainbrace with you this many a long day."

Like King Charles II before him Roger could only marvel that he had been fool enough to remain away from home so long.

"But tell me," went on his father. "What led to your abandoning your good position in such haste, and this dastardly attack upon you to-night?"

Roger had only just started to recount his Odyssey when his mother returned with the dressings. Having bathed the wounds she made a poultice of Grains of Paradise and bound it round his head. While she was doing so he continued with his story and brought it up to date.

When he had done, the Admiral frowned, and said: "But who can this villain be, that attacked you? How could any of your enemies have known that they would find you here, and so he in wait for you in the stable?"

" Tis a problem that utterly defeats me," Roger declared. "At first, from the efficacy of the knots that tied me, I inclined to think it one of the seamen from the barque. Yet I cannot now see how it could be. Twas certainly not Captain Rapenot, for he had a hook to his left arm and the man who pounced on me grasped my throat with two hands. Besides, I wounded both Rapenot and his second mate too seriously for either of them to venture such an undertaking."

"They might have sent the first mate or a member of their crew ashore," hazarded the Admiral.

Roger shook his head. "I don't believe it possible, Sir. The barque sailed straight on to the west. While General Cleveland was bringing me ashore I watched her for more than an hour, and she neither lowered a boat nor showed any signs of dropping anchor."

"She might have put into Christchurch."

"Nay. If she had, there'd not have been time enough for one of them to get back here by half-past seven. Moreover, although they guessed who I was, I had told them only that my home lay near Southampton. How could a foreign seaman have found out so swiftly where I lived. 'Twas not one of the men from the barque, I'm now convinced of that."

"Think you it might have been a vagrant, or perhaps an Egyptian from the forest come in to rob our hen-roost and, seeing you, thought he might snatch a purse as well?"

" 'Twas no vagrant, Sir. This fellow knew what he was after. I can hear his cry of triumph now as he came upon the letter, and he muttered to himself in French about collecting the reward."

"Then it must have been someone from France who caught the packet on Thursday afternoon, and sailed some twelve hours ahead of you."

"You're right, Sir," Roger agreed. " 'Tis the only explanation. Yet I am still foxed completely, for how could anyone in France have thought it probable that I might make for Lymington?"

"The de Rochambeaux might have done so, and told M. de Crosne's people."

Athenais alone knew the situation of my home, and she would never have betrayed me. Her father and brother did not even know that I was an Englishman until a few hours before I left Paris."

"You told them your name, though; and that you were my son."

"True; and, knowing that, an agent, having got to London, might have obtained your address through the Admiralty. But that is no explanation in this case. In view of the storm no boat leaving a French port on Thursday afternoon could have entered a British harbour until the weather eased this morning. She would have been bashed to pieces on the piers in the attempt. My attacker cannot possibly have stepped ashore in England earlier than an hour after dawn to-day, and 'tis humanly impossible for him to have reached London, found out where we lived and got here by seven o'clock this evening."

The Admiral nodded. "Well reasoned, lad! Wherever he landed such a proceeding could not mean less than a hundred and fifty mile ride. Dick Turpin himself could not have done it in the time."

" 'Tis an impenetrable mystery," Roger sighed, "and I fear we'll never learn the solution to it; though I'd give de Caylus's sapphire to know the fellow's identity, and for a chance to get even with him."

Suddenly the Admiral slapped his thigh. "Damme! What in thunder are we thinking of, to be swopping theories like a couple of school-marms, when we should be about hunting the villain down."

"That will be no easy task, seeing how poor is the description I can give of him."

" 'Twill be no easy task for him to get back to France, either; once I am gone into action. We know he's a Frenchie, and tall, you say? What else can you recall about him?"

"He had the thin hands of a well-bred man, though they were muscular. I think that he was clean-shaven; but of that I cannot be certain, since I glimpsed his face only as a pale blur. From his shadow I should say that he was wearing a coat or cloak with a heavy cape-collar, and his hat was in the modern style, a hard felt, flat-topped and conical-sided."

While Roger was giving his description his father had snatched up a piece of paper and was swiftly making notes. When he had done, he said:" 'Tis well! I'll go up to the Mayor and have his constables circulate this description locally. The King of France is not the only man whose purse is long enough to offer five hundred guineas' reward for a capture, and by morning all South Hampshire will be hunting for this dog. Meanwhile, 'tis no time to stand on ceremony. C.-in-C, Ports­mouth, will bear me no grudge if I poach his territory in a case like this, and my signature as Rear-Admiral, Channel Squadron, will be honoured from Dover to Land's End. 'Tis my intention to close the ports."

"Well done, Sir!" Roger exclaimed, his despair giving place to hope. He had never before seen his big, rubicund father at work in a crisis, and realised now how well fitted he was to hold a high command.

"Give me now the words you heard him mutter," the Admiral went on. "Maybe we'll get something from them."

Roger endeavoured to recall the expressions used, but he could not, and replied: "He said something to this effect: Thank God my instinct proved right. By to-morrow morning this will have earned me as much as I make in two years.

"To-morrow!" his father repeated. "Surely you could not have heard aright? He could not reach a port and make the crossing in the time. Perhaps, though, he had a boat awaiting him in some smuggler's cove along the coast. If so, we're sunk."

"That may be it, Sir; but, even if he had, he'd not be able to reach France before to-morrow night, and I'll take my oath that he said to-morrow morning."

"The fellow is a positive will-o'-the-wisp!" cried the Admiral in exasperation. "One thing is clear; he knew this to be your home and came here on a sudden inspiration; thinking that if you landed anywhere between Poole and Southampton you would come here first before proceeding to London, and hoping for a chance to waylay you. The odds are that he is one of M. de Crosne's agents. But as for his returning to France to reap the reward by to-morrow morning, no man born of woman could do it."

Lady Marie had been sitting listening to her men. For the first time since she had finished bandaging Roger's head, she spoke. "Think you there is anywhere in this country where he could collect the money?"

Roger jumped to his feet. "Mother, I believe you have it! The notice said that M. de Crosne or any accredited agent of the French Crown would pay out the reward. The French Ambassador is such a one. Could it possibly be that our man is on his way to London?"

"Nonsense!" laughed his father. " 'Tis too far-fetched. Having done his business, a French police-agent's first thought Would be to get back to France."

"Not necessarily! If he is a cunning one, as this fellow seems to be. He would know that you, as a British Admiral, would have special faciHties for swiftly closing the ports against him. 'Twould be a clever move to ride unmolested through the night to London while we remained here organising parties to scour the coast. In any event, 'tis time now that I was off. I'd meant to take the journey easily, but I shall ride hard now, since there is just a chance that I may pick up his trail and overhaul him."

"Oh, Roger!" exclaimed Lady Marie, "Are you recovered enough to face such an ordeal. 'Tis over ninety miles."

He smiled at her. "I pray you be not concerned on that score. Your Grains of Paradise have already done wonders for my head; and now that I am once again on our own good soil I'd ride to Scotland, had I a mind to it."

"So be it then," the Adrniral agreed. "But 'tis my belief that you misunderstood what the fellow said, and will be on a wild goose chase. For my part I shall cast a wider net by taking the measures I have outlined. But I wish you fortune, and if you catch your man the five hundred guineas I intend to offer shall be yours."

"Thanks, Sirl" cried Roger. "If my instinct proves as good as my enemy's I'll hope to claim it. Though, even if I'm right, 111 have but an outside chance of catching him. He has well over two hours' start, and the only way I can hope to make that up is with your assistance."

"How so?"

"In aiding me to obtain all possible facilities on my journey. I pray you write me a note giving me priority at all posting-houses for remounts and the like; and add a line enabling me to call for assistance in attempting his capture."

The Admiral moved quickly over to Lady Marie's secretaire, took quill and paper, and wrote:

To all whom it may concern.

The bearer of this is Mr. Roger Brook, and he rides upon His Majesty's business. Every possible aid that he may require is to be rendered to him. In the event of his calling for assistance to secure the person of a French agent for detention and examination such assistance is to be afforded him without question.

Christopher Brook, Rear-Admiral, Channel Squadron.

Roger thrust the paper into his pocket, kissed his mother fondly and, followed by his father, hurried from the room.

Outside the front door Jim Button was walking the mare up and down. As they came out, he cried:

"The chestnut be gone from the stable, Sir. That varmint must have took 'e."

"God rot his guts!" bellowed the Admiral; and Roger remembered then that, as he struggled back to consciousness, he had heard his attacker lead a horse out into the yard.

"He be no good picker," Jim went on. "The chestnut be overdue for shoeing. He'll not get five miles afore a shoe comes loose; or my name's not Jim Button."

"A thousand thanks for such good tidings, Jim," cried Roger, as he mounted. Then, with a shout of good-bye to his father, he turned the mare and cantered through the already open gates on his way to London.

Trotting up the lane he turned left at the church and out of the town towards Boldre. The hamlet was only two miles away and he reached it in under ten minutes. Pulling up outside the smithy, without dismounting, he hammered with his crop upon the door. It was now close on ten o'clock and the smith was in bed asleep. Roused by Roger's shouts he opened an upper window and thrust out a head crowned by a white, tasselled nightcap. But Roger's swift inquiry drew a blank; no traveller had halted there to have a chestnut shod within the past two hours.

Ten minutes later he galloped into Brockenhurst and knocked up the smithy there; but with the same result.

Between Brockenhurst and Lyndhurst he made splendid going through the lovely stretch of forest, but he was now wondering if his father had not been right, and that he had set out on a wild goose chase. If Jim was correct about the chestnut the horse should have cast a shoe before this. Roger had to confess to himself that his guess had been a long shot. In the cold light of reason it was much more probable that his unknown enemy would endeavour to slip back to France. In that case there was still a chance that the Admiral's net might close upon him at one of the ports. On the other hand, so astute a rogue might well have prepared his retreat beforehand, and already be well out to sea in some smuggler's lugger that had been waiting to carry him home. Again, having secured the letter, there was no urgent reason why he should hurry back. He might consider discretion the better part of valour, and decide to go into hiding for a time, then make the crossing when the hue and cry had died down. It would be easy for a Frenchman to lie low for weeks in the foreign quarter of a great sea­port like Southampton without the least risk of discovery.

Yet Roger was absolutely positive that he had heard aright, and that, somehow, his attacker planned to collect the reward next morning. If that were so there was only one place that he could do it, and that was at the French Embassy in London.

At twenty minutes to eleven Roger cantered into Lyndhurst. With a catch of the breath he saw that there was still a light behind the curtains of the blacksmith's upstairs window. It might have been any belated traveller who had kept him up, but the augury seemed good, and so it proved.

Roger had no sooner attracted the smith's attention and put his question, than the man replied:

"Yes, Master. I re-shod the off-fore of a chestnut and looked to his other shoes for a foreign gentleman not an hour back."

"Can you describe him?" cried Roger.

"He were a tall chap, wearing a long riding-coat and a flat-crowned steeple hat."

rtBut his face?"

"Ah, I'd not swear to that. He kept hisself well in the shadow. But he were clean shaven, and somewhat pasty looking. Seeing he were a furriner it crossed me mind that he'd maybe landed only a few hours back, and bin down with the sea-sickness in yesterday's storm."

"His age?"

"On the youngish side. Maybe thirty, but not more." "Did he say where he was going?"

"Nay. His English were poor. He spoke little and not a word of that."

"How long since he left here?" "Three-quarters of an hour."

"Thanks," shouted Roger, and wheeling his mare, he sped out of the town along the road to Totton.

It was his man without a doubt. Moreover, his prospects of over­taking him were far better than he had ever dared to hope. It could not have taken over two hours for his enemy to reach Lyndhurst and have his horse reshod; he must have halted on the way, either at Lymington or Brockenhurst, to take a meal at one of the inns before setting out for London. That argued his complete confidence that he would elude any hue and cry that might be raised after him by making for the capital instead of one of the ports. He could not have known, either, that Roger's father would return so soon and release him, and probably thought that his victim would remain trussed in the stable until someone found him in the morning. All the odds were now that, without the least suspicion that he was being pursued, the Frenchman was riding on at quite a moderate pace. And he was only three quarters of an hour ahead. His heart high with elation, Roger spurred on his mare, and rode all out along the springy turf that bordered the road across the more open part of the forest, east of Lyndhurst.

He reached Totton a quarter of an hour before midnight and flung himself off his steaming mount in the yard of the posting-house. The night ostler told him that the traveller for whom he inquired had changed horses there half an hour earlier. His description of the Frenchman was as vague as that of the smith. He could only remember that he had been tall and sickly looking. But Roger felt it pointless to waste time in pressing for details. He had enough to go on and felt certain now that his enemy was one of M. de Crosne's agents, and that he would not know him even if he saw him. How de Crosne, or his man, had known that the home of the Englishman they were pursuing was at Lymington remained a mystery over which Roger continued to puzzle his wits in vain; and, had he needed any added incentive to overtake his enemy the prospect of solving the problem would have provided it. But he needed none. Having had his saddle transferred to a mettlesome grey from the posting-stables, he left the address to which his own mare was to be returned, and pushed on.

In his first stage he had covered fourteen miles; his next, to Win­chester, was fifteen. At first the road ran up and down a series of switchback hills then through flatfish farm country. The weather had cleared and the September moon had risen above the trees. The grey proved a good steed and Roger was in no mood to spare him. He was fond of horses but fonder of his country and he was now determined to catch his man, even if he had to kill several of his mounts under him. Just before one in the morning he rode over the chalk hills into Winchester.

At the Black Swan he inquired again. His man had changed horses there and trotted out of the yard only ten minutes before his arrival. While his saddle was being changed from the exhausted grey to a bay mare he took stock of the situation. He had little doubt now that he could catch his unsuspecting enemy on the next lap; but it was as good as certain that the Frenchman would be armed. Jim had put a pair of pistols into Roger's holsters as a normal precaution against his encountering a highwayman; and he was not afraid to face any man in a fight. But in this case if he came off worst it was not only himself, but his country, that would be the loser. He positively dared not risk being left wounded in a ditch while his enemy got clean away with the letter. In consequence, he decided that the time had now come when he must make use of his father's warrant. Winchester was a garrison town so he f Sit that there would be no difficulty in securing military aid there.

Mounting the bay he rode at a quick trot to the barracks of the Hampshire Regiment. The sentry at its gate called the Sergeant of the guard. The Sergeant said that he thought some of the officers were still up, and, having handed his mount over to an orderly, Roger hurried with him to the mess.

After an infuriating wait of five minutes in the hall a heavily-moustached Captain, who was half-seas-over, came out to see him. Roger did not mince matters. Politely but swiftly he stated his business, produced his warrant, and requested that a mounted escort should be furnished for him with the minimum possible delay.

The Captain sobered up at once, and said: "This is an infantry barracks, so normally I'd only be able to help you by asking some of the officers to turn out with their grooms. But 'tis your good fortune that we've been on manoeuvres recently, and a squadron of Dragoons are quartered here as our guests. Have the goodness to wait here a few moments and I'll fetch one of their officers. He is having the devil's own luck at the cards to-night, so you'll be doing us a favour, Sir, if you'll relieve us of him and prevent his further inroads on our pockets''

Again Roger had to submit to seeing a few more precious moments slip away. Then one of the big double doors of the ante-room opened again and the Captain returned, accompanied by a thick-set, red-faced young man with a crop of ginger curls. To Roger's amazement he found himself face to face with, his old enemy of Sherborne days, George Gunston.

Recognition was mutual for, at that second, Gunston cried: "Why, damn my soul! If it isn't Bookworm Brook!"

Roger flushed slightly and replied: "I have no time for exchanging compliments, but if you have a mind to it I will find plenty later on at any time and place you may suggest."

"I see that you are already acquainted," murmured the Captain, a trifle uneasily.

"By God! The fellow's challenging me!" exploded Gunston, going redder in the face than ever.

"Not at the moment," said Roger sharply. "The Captain, here, will have told you what's afoot. I am on the King's service and require a troop of horse to accompany me instantly. I pray you, Mr. Gunston, let our personal prejudices lie dormant for this night, at least; and give me your aid without demur."

"On the King's service," muttered Gunston, bringing his heels together with a click and bowing. "So he it, Mr. Brook. Be pleased to come with me."

Much as Roger disliked Gunston he had to admit that he was a good officer. Within twelve minutes he had his troop of Dragoons roused from their sleep, out of their barrack room and mounted. He gave a sharp word of command and, with Roger beside him, wheeled his horse. With the clatter of hooves and the jingling of sabres behind them, they trotted out of the barrack gates and took the London road.

Roger reckoned that his enforced delay to secure an escort had cost him a little over twenty minutes, so his enemy now had half an hour's lead over him again; but he* thought that with luck they might catch up with him before he reached Alton.

The road ahead lay through water meadows, and on their right meandered the river Itchin, in which Roger's father had occasionally taken him, while still a boy, to fish for the wily brown trout.

For the first mile or so they held their pace while Roger satisfied Gunston's curiosity as briefly as he decently could. Then, when he had described the foreigner that he was endeavouring to catch, Gunston shouted an order and the whole troop settled down to get the best out of their chargers.

For ten miles they rode hard, without exchanging a word, and, going at a steady canter, mounted the long slope that lies some way to the south of Alton. As they breasted its crest a mile of open country lay before them. Simultaneously Roger and George caught sight of a solitary horseman walking his horse half a mile ahead. The bright moonlight showed quite plainly that he was the man they were after. Even at that distance they could make out the lankiness of his figure, the heavy collared riding-coat and his truncated, steeple-crowned hat.

Having visualised just such a situation, Roger had intended that the troop should reduce its pace to a trot, ride up alongside the un­suspecting Frenchman as though about to pass him, halt, wheel and surround him; thus taking him prisoner before he even had a chance to attempt to escape.

But Lieutenant George Gunston had very different ideas. With the instinct of a bom fox-hunting squire he instantly rowelled his horse and gave vent to a loud: "Tally ho! Tally ho! Tally ho!"

Taken completely by surprise Roger could only choke back his fury. His mount automatically leapt forward beside its companion, while the whole troop of Dragoons followed their excited officer with wild shouts of enthusiasm and glee.

The man ahead turned to throw one glance over his shoulder, then set spurs to his horse. The hunt was up, and there was nothing that Roger could do about it now but to crouch low over his mare's neck and attempt, with the rest, to ride down his quarry.

As he had foreseen the attempt was a failure. The Frenchman had too good a lead, and the road now sloped down towards some beech-woods. Urging his steed on to the grass at the side of the road he veered off to the right at a gallop and, a few minutes later, was lost to sight in the deep shadow of the woods.

After their ten miles at a pressing pace, and final mile-long burst of speed, the horses were now badly winded; and, as they reached the valley bottom where the thick beechwoods came right up to both sides of the road, Gunston threw up his hand to halt his men. Then, as the sweating horses stumbled to a standstill, he called in an aggrieved tone to Roger: "Damme! The Frog has cheated us of our sport. He's gone to earth!"

"And whose fault is that?" snarled Roger, white with rage. "You besotted oaf! What the hell did you expect, having given him ten minutes' warning?"

"Hey!" Gunston bellowed back. "King's business or no, I'll not have anyone hold such language to me. I take you up in earnest now on your invitation to meet you at another time and place."

Roger's hp curled. "That suits me well. I've a long score to settle with you that I've not forgot. And God help you if you cannot use a sword or pistol better than you do your head."

"We'll see about that," Gunston snapped. "Send me your seconds when your business in town is done; and I'll show you that I can use either as well as I do my fists. But since you are in command here at the moment, what are your wishes now that we have lost our man?"

"Please to remain here with your men, and have them scour the woods till dawn," Roger replied coldly. "I fear the odds are now very great against your making a find, but should you catch him take instant action to secure the document that he carries before he can destroy it; then bring him on to London. As I act under Naval orders 'twould be best if you deliver him and the paper to the Admiralty. I shall ride on alone, and if I have no luck, I will call there later in the day to learn if there is news of you."

Swivelling his mare, Roger flogged the poor brute into a trot and rode on into Alton. Already, while galloping at a breakneck speed after the vanishing Frenchman, he had decided that if, through Gunston's folly, he lost his quarry, the best course would be for him to ride on as fast as possible. It was certain that his man would he up in the woods for a bit before venturing back on to the road, so by passing him while he hid and getting to the capital first there was still a chance that he might be headed off before he could reach the French Embassy.

At Alton Roger changed his exhausted mare for another bay and continued on, now through flatfish country, towards Farnham. The middle of the stage was about half-way between Lymington and London and he was already feeling the strain. Yet he dared not let up for a moment. He had never been to London and had no connections there upon whom he could call at a moment's notice. If his last card was to be of any value careful arrangements would have to be made for the playing of it and, as he would have to appeal for help to strangers, that would take time. He did not even know where the French Embassy was situated; and his man, now thoroughly alarmed, would probably approach it by a circuitous route, so he reckoned that if an effective ambush was to be organised he must reach the capital at least an hour ahead of his quarry.

He got to Farnham at three-thirty, changed his horse again and cantered up the slope on to the Hog's Back. The road now ran along the crest of a high ridge and the sinking moon lit a weird and splendid panorama of pine forests stretching away into the distance. But he had no eyes for it and swaying automatically with his mount pressed on to Guildford.

As his horse walked him up the steep high street of the old city he decided that, having covered two-thirds of his journey, he must rest for a while, at least. While his saddle was being changed to a piebald in the yard of the White Hart, he went inside and asked the serving man to bring him some coffee laced with rum. It seemed days ago since he had woken on the barque that morning, but he was thankful now that he had slept on till eleven o'clock. He was not feeling the least tired mentally, but his back and thighs were protesting strongly at the strain his sixty-mile ride had put upon them.

It was a quarter to five by the time he had drunk his coffee and two minutes later he was on his way to Cobham. To his intense annoyance the piebald proved an awkward brute, being one of those mounts that always seem reluctant to break cleanly from a trot to a canter and vice versa. The jolting he received during the ten-mile stretch took it out of him more than his hard ride with Gunston over a longer distance had done; and he was much relieved when he was able to change it at Cobham for the fourth bay that he had ridden that night.

The Ladies' Mile on to Esher offered him a good clear gallop, but by the time he reached Kingston he felt terribly done. There, he changed horses for the last time and set out on the final eleven-mile stage. His mount was a good one but he was no longer capable of getting the best out of it. Yet he continued to do his damnedest.

He knew that his enemy had ridden at leisure for the first half of the journey and so must be in much better shape than himself. The odds were that within half an hour of taking to the woods the French­man would have regained the road and was now riding all out behind him. He had thought of endeavouring to prevent him being furnished with relays, but to do so would have meant stopping at each posting-house while somebody in authority was found to whom he could show his father's warrant, and he had decided that he dared not risk such a series of delays.

As dawn broke he was riding at a slow trot over Putney Heath, then he walked his horse down the slope towards the bridge, crossed the Thames, and began to trot again through the village of Fulham. Nerving himself to a last effort he cantered up the slope beyond Knightsbridge and pulled up at the tollgate on Hyde Park Corner, at eight o'clock.

Having inquired his way to Queen Anne's Gate, he trotted the last half-mile past Buckingham House and through St. James's Park, to rein in and almost fall from his saddle in front of Mr. Gilbert Maxwell's house.

His ring at the door was answered by a smooth-faced servant in plain livery, to whom he said that he must see Mr. Maxwell immediately, on a most urgent matter.

"I am sorry, Sir," the man answered, "but Mr. Maxwell has already gone out."

This was the one thing that Roger had not foreseen, and it came as a desperate blow.

"Where can I find him" he gasped. "I come on the King's business, and 'twill not wait."

The servant shook his head regretfully. "Mr. Maxwell never leaves word where he is to be found when he walks abroad."

"How soon will he be back?"

"That is more than I can say, Sir. But if you care to leave your name, or write to him "

"I tell you my business is of most desperate urgency," Roger cried, "and the day would be gone before a letter could be delivered."

"Oh, no, Sir," the man replied blandly. "If you care to enter and write your letter here, I can promise you that it will reach him with very little delay."

Roger was in no state to ponder this paradox and assess its meaning. Instead he stood leaning against the iron railing for a moment, frantically searching his mind for some other source where he might secure the urgent help he needed. Suddenly he had an inspiration, and asked: "Where is Amesbury House?"

"In Arlington Street, Sir. Just off Piccadilly. You have but to ride north across the Park and you will come to it."

"I pray you help me to my horse."

The man obliged and Roger trotted across Birdcage Walk towards St. James's Palace. As he did so it crossed his mind that perhaps, after all, Mr. Gilbert Maxwell was at home but, owing to the highly secret nature of his work, made it a rule never to reveal himself to anyone If so, a note left for him might have produced the required action in time to be effective; but that was only speculation, and Roger's need was too urgent for him to consider turning back now that he had thought of another possibility.

Outside the Palace he inquired again, of a man in a cocked hat, for the exact situation of Amesbury House, and, on learning it, pushed on up St. James's Street. Having turned left near its top end another moment brought him into the courtyard of the great mansion he was seeking.

Flinging himself off his horse he stumbled up the steps and shouted to the liveried footman on the doon "Lord Edward Fitz-Deverel! Is he at home?"

"Why, yes, Sir," replied the astonished servant. "But His Lordship is not yet risen."

"No matter! Take me to him!" panted Roger.

His dishevelled state and bandaged head now proved a talisman. The footman was sensible enough to see that this was no time to stand on ceremony. Acting with an initiative that no French servant would have dared to show, he grabbed Roger by the arm and hurried him up the broad marble staircase, then along a corridor to a heavily-carved door. Banging on it with his fists, he cried: "My Lord! There's a gentleman here who has travelled in. great haste to see you."

"Let him come in then," called a voice; and, throwing open the door, Roger staggered forward towards Droopy Ned.

Droopy did not seem to have grown any older. He still had the curiously ageless look of a young man old before his time. He was dressed in a magnificent flowing robe of Indian silk and wore a turban round his head. With his feet stretched out before him, he reclined at ease on a gilded chaise-longue while toying with a breakfast tray set on a low table at his side.

As his pale blue eyes fell on Roger, he said languidly: "Egad, Sir! You seem in a plaguey hurry. Who are you? I seem to know your face."

Collapsing in a chair, Roger grinned at him. "We last met on leaving Sherborne. You told me then to call upon you if ever I needed assistance and, by God, if ever any man needed it, I need it now."

"Why! Strap me, if it's not young Roger Brook!" Droopy grinned back. "And I'll honour the pledge willingly. If you need a poor sword or a fat purse, either are at your service."

In five minutes Roger had given the salient points in the affair that concerned him so desperately. Droopy's quick brain seemed to leap ahead of the tale at almost every stage; and, well before it was done, the languid fop had given place to the man of action. Throwing off his robe and turban he began to pull on his outdoor clothes; then he took two long strides to the door and hollaed for his servants.

One he sent to order his coach, another to collect four footmen armed with pistols to accompany him, and a third to request his father to ask an audience of Mr. Pitt for him at noon.

As they ran off to execute his orders he hastily completed his dressing, then fetched a decanter of some foreign cordial from a bureau and made Roger swallow a couple of glasses of it. The liquor revived him wonderfully and when, a few minutes later, they ran downstairs he felt that, if put to it, he could yet have ridden another stage. Within a quarter of an hour of his having reached Amesbury House, they were in the coach and off, with two armed footmen on the box and another two inside the vehicle with them.

"Whither are we going?" Roger asked, as the coach trundled across Piccadilly.

"To Portland Place," replied Droopy. " 'Tis in that fine new thoroughfare that the French Embassy is situated."

Ten minutes later they were driving up the beautiful broad street, with open country at the far end of it.

"How do you plan to take him? inquired Roger, thrusting his head out of the window. But this time he had no need to be appre­hensive.

"We'll lie in wait for him in front of the house next to the Embassy," Droopy said, pulling him back by the skirt of his coat. "I'll send two of my men round to the back entrance lest, perchance, he elects to attempt getting in that way. Should he do so one of them can hold him covered with a pistol while t'other comes round to fetch us. From your description of his figure and dress 'tis impossible that they should fail to recognise him. Henry and Thomas, here, shall take the back of the house while James and John remain on the boot to render us assistance should we need it. I will give all of them their instructions; since you must not show yourself, lest he recognise you, even from a distance, and gallop off once more."

" 'Tis well planned," Roger agreed. "But he'll not recognise me, for I've never been face to face with the fellow, except in the dark."

"Of that, you cannot be certain," Droopy remarked shrewdly. "In any event, 'tis wisest that you should remain in a comer of the coach and not emerge until I give the word."

The dispositions were soon made, and they settled down to wait. Excited and overwrought as he was, Roger soon found his head nodding and, after sitting still for ten minutes, he was sound asleep.

Over an hour and a half elapsed, and when one of the footmen rapped sharply on the roof of the coach Roger did not hear him. Droopy peered out of the window and watched a thin, lanky figure come riding up the street. He waited patiently until the man had dismounted and stood in the road some ten paces away. Then he shook Roger awake, thrust a pistol into his hand and, levelling his own, sprang out of the coach.

At the sound the horseman turned, started, and made a move as though to dash for the doorway of the Embassy; but he knew that it was too far off for him to reach it. He had seen instantly that he waa covered by the two footmen on the boot of the coach as well as by Droopy, and he heard the latter shout in French:

"Stand in the King's name! One move and I shoot to kill!"

Shaking the sleep from his eyes, Roger sprang into the road beside Droopy, and found himself staring into the pale, corpse-like face of Joseph Fouché.

CHAPTER XXVI

WARRANT FOR EXTRADITION

''How positively extraordinary that I should have clean forgot all about that man," said Roger, some quarter of an hour later, as the coach rumbled south towards Downing Street. "That strange, colourless personality of his had left no impression on my mind; yet when I was searching my memory last night I should have recalled him, seeing that he is the only man in all France to whom I gave not only my father's name and my own but also the place where lay my home. 'Tis amazing, too, that he should have carried them in his memory for close on four years."

"Nay, 'tis not so amazing in view of what he said," Droopy Ned replied in his careless drawl. "It seems he prides himself on his astuteness as an amateur in detection, and a fine memory is an essential requisite for that. The name, too, of a foreign Admiral would be apt to stick in any man's mind more readily than that of one of his own countrymen. 'Tis little wonder that on seeing the notice about you on the docks at St. Malo he recalled you, and decided to gamble the price of a return fare on the packet to Southampton against the earning of so handsome a reward."

Roger nodded. "Yes, the five hundred louis offered for the letter would mean a lot to a poor school teacher, and as his pupils have not yet assembled for the autumn session, he no doubt felt that even if the venture failed 'twould prove a pleasant diversion before returning to his dreary work. I wonder though that a man so fond of intrigue does not take up something else."

"He will. Believe me, Roger, that pale, sickly-looking fellow has prodigious strength of character concealed beneath his corpse-like countenance. I'll swear to that, or I'm no judge of men. 'Tis the very colourlessness of his personality that will make him both powerful and dangerous. Did'st notice that he would not look us in the eye. That was not shame, nor fright, nor modesty. 'Twas because he was determined to hide from us the ambition that consumes him inwardly and his fury at our having thwarted him."

"Yet he spoke me fair enough. An apology was the last thing I expected; but he vowed that he'd meant me no harm personally and was tempted to the venture only on account of the reward."

"And, like a softy, you repaid him royally for it," laughed Droopy. "Instead of clapping him in jug for the assault upon you, and for stealing your father's horse, you let him go. Yet should you ever meet Monsieur Joseph Fouché again I vow your generosity will avail you nothing. That man would strangle his own mother, and crave her pardon while accomplishing the act from a fixed conviction that a soft answer ever turneth away wrath."

"Ah, well!" Roger shrugged. "We have the document intact. 'Tis that alone that matters."

Yet he had made a terrible enemy, and in later years was often to recall Droopy's shrewd judgment; since Joseph Fouché, his pale hands dripping with the blood he had shed during the Terror, was to emerge from it as the dreaded Chief of the Secret Police under the Consulate; and, having served and betrayed many masters, was to become in due course millionaire, Minister and Duke of Otranto, the most unscrupulous, hated and feared of all Napoleon's servants.

*****

On their arriving at No. 10, Downing Street, a secretary confirmed that Mr. Pitt had agreed to the Marquess of Amesbury's request that he would receive Lord Edward at noon; but they were a little early for the appointment, and were taken through to wait in the back portion of the long, narrow hall. Then, presently, the secretary led them up to the front room on the first floor, which Mr. Pitt used as his office.

Droopy introduced Roger, who pleaded his overnight journey as excuse for appearing in such a dirty and dishevelled condition and, while doing so, took swift stock of the remarkable man to whom at the age of twenty-four King George III had entrusted the destinies of Britain.

He was taller than Roger had expected, and dressed in a high-collared coat the top button only of which was fastened, so that the filmy lace of his shirt showed above and below it. His fair hair was brushed back from his high forehead, his mouth was sensitive and his almond-shaped eyes were grave; his long oval face already showed the cares of office and his manner seemed a little awkward. On the table in front of him stood a decanter of port and some glasses, from one of which he was already drinking. With shy abruptness he invited them to join him, and, when they had poured two glasses, asked their business.

Without a word Roger produced the letter and laid it before him.

Having read it the Prime Minister said: "I like the directness of your methods, Mr. Brook. How did you come by this, and what do you know concerning its contents? Tell me everything you can. In a matter of such gravity my time is yours."

Roger then told his tale and, afterwards, spent a further half-hour answering a series of shrewd questions fired at him by Mr. Pitt, who was now pacing restlessly about the room holding his glass in one hand and swinging the decanter in the other.

At length he returned to his chair and said with a smile: "How old are you, Mr. Brook?"

"I shall be twenty in January, Sir."

Mr. Pitt nodded. "That is but a little more than a year younger than I was when I first created some stir in Parliament. I mention this so you may know that I am not one who considers that good counsel can come only from old age, and that I shall give a certain weight to your opinion. What Would you do were you in my place?"

Roger did not hesitate, but accepted the honour done him as he was meant to do. He said firmly: "I see only one thing for.it

, Sir. If you wish to avert a war that may well prove disastrous to Britain later, you must risk one now. 'Tis my conviction that if challenged at the present juncture the French will not dare to fight; but, if they are once allowed to gain control of the Dutch ports and the wealth of the United Provinces, 'twill be a very different matter."

"You opinion marches with my own, Mr. Brook," the Prime Minister declared. "I am not altogether uninformed regarding the state of affairs in the United Provinces, and they have given me con­siderable concern for sometime. Of this devilish French plot, of which you have brought us such timely warning, I confess I was in complete ignorance. Yet I now see many pointers to it, of which I have hitherto failed to recognise the significance. Sir James Harris, our Minister at The Hague, has twice returned to London for special consultations with the Cabinet, and he has repeatedly urged upon me the necessity for an alliance with Prussia to check the ambitious designs of the French in the Dutch Netherlands. Unfortunately, the old King of Prussia, who died last year, rejected my overtures to that end; but the new King, his nephew, seems more amenable."

Mr. Pitt paused to swallow another swig of port, then went on: "King Fredenck-William II is brother to the Stadtholder's wife, and he most strongly resents the insolence of these Dutch Republicans to his sister and her husband. He has even mobilised an army of thirty thousand men under the Duke of Brunswick on the Dutch border in an attempt to overawe them without bloodshed; yet further he does not seem prepared to go. If, by sending him information of this French conspiracy, we could induce him to march in, half our battle would be already won. And 'tis that which I intend to do. I shall despatch a courier by fast ship to-night with letters to both Sir James and the Duke. The one, I know, will do his utmost to check the French designs; with regard to the other, we can only hope that he will realise the necessity for prompt action."

To Roger's surprise, and somewhat to his consternation, Droopy Ned suddenly said: "Permit me to propose, Sir, that Mr. Brook should be your messenger. He knows the ins and outs of this affair better than any other man, and might well turn the balance in our favour with His Grace of Brunswick."

"I thank you. Lord Edward, 'tis an admirable thought," replied the Prime Minister; then he swung round on Roger: "May I count upon you for this mission, Mr. Brook?"

Roger had passed through a week of trial that would have lasted most men a lifetime, but he did not hesitate in his reply: "I am His Majesty's loyal servant, Sir; and yours."

Mr. Pitt smiled. " 'Twas well said, seeing the ordeals you have survived so recently, and you merit all your country's gratitude."

He helped himself to another glass of port, stood up and went on slowly: "Our course is set then. 'Tis monstrous hard that after having used my utmost ingenuity for near four years to preserve the peace of Europe, and in the meantime once again built up Britain's prosperity, that I should now be called on to invite a war. Yet there is clearly no alternative. I will have despatches ready for you by eight o'clock this evening and make all arrangements for your journey. I pray to God that He may aid you to persuade the Prussians to act in this emergency; but, meanwhile, we will take our measures here. If Prussia acts not with us, England will act alone. I intend this day to give orders for the mobilisation of the British Fleet."

* * * * *

Late that evening Roger went aboard a frigate that was lying off Gravesend, and sailed in her on the night-tide. He found himself in the extraordinary position of not only carrying Mr. Pitt's despatches but with letters of marque recommending him as a person whose opinion should be asked and given due weight. A little over twenty-four hours later he was in The Hague, and having the British Minister roused from his bed.

When Sir James Harris had read the despatches addressed jto him he exclaimed: "Thank God that Mr. Pitt has at last decided to support the Stadtholder by force of arms. 'Tis the policy that I have been urging on him through our Foreign Secretary, my Lord Carmarthen, for these past two years."

Roger found Sir James extremely well informed, immensely competent and, to him personally, kindness itself. They immediately took a great liking to one another and, within two hours of his arrival, the Minister asked him to accompany him to an early morning con­ference with Baron Goetz, with whose collaboration he had been striving to stave off the French domination of the United Provinces.

That same morning Roger left with Baron Goetz in his travelling coach for Munster, the headquarters of the Duke of Brunswick's army. There followed forty-eight hours of almost uninterrupted conferences at which the Duke consulted with his senior commanders and numerous German Princes who were on his staff. Roger played little part in these deliberations, but he found his German good enough to understand the gist of what was going on and, at times, was able to corroborate a point through an interpreter.

On the gth of September the Duke acted and launched his army into the rebellious provinces. The free companies came out, but France did not honour her promise to support them and withdrew the Comte de Maillebois, who was replaced by the Rhinegrave von Salms. He and his Dutch volunteers proved no match for the well-disciplined Prussian army trained by Frederick the Great, and the Dutch nobility declared for the Stadtholder.

On the 16th the French Government issued a declaration that it would not suffer the Constitution of the United Provinces to be violated, and for a few days it looked as if France was going to fight. But Roger had learned that at the beginning of the month both de Castries and de Segur, refusing to serve under the Archbishop, had resigned; so he knew that M. de Rochambeau and the war party no longer had the direction of affairs, and his contention that the French were bluffing proved correct.

On the 20th, after an absence of two years, the Stadtholder entered The Hague with his friends in triumph and to the plaudits of the great mass of the common people. Roger participated in the rejoicings as Sir James's guest. On the 28th he returned to London, his mission accomplished.

*****

After having signed the book at No. 10, he spent two hectic nights with Droopy Ned, then went down to Lymington. His parents could not make enough of him and his father insisted that he must accept the five hundred guineas reward for his capture of Joseph Fouché, so he was well in funds. The Admiral also was most averse to his seeking any fresh employment for at least a year.

On his first morning at home he rode over to seek news of Georgina but there he met with a disappointment. Both Colonel Thursby and his lovely daughter proved to be abroad, and the butler told Roger that Georgina was now Lady Etheredge, having married Sir Humphrey Etheredge some three years before.

While in London Roger had asked Droopy Ned and another gentleman to act for him in the matter of George Gunston, and on the 10th of October he learned that a meeting had been arranged for the 17th.

The duel took place in a secluded part of St. John's Wood, and Gunston had chosen pistols. Both principals refused all offers of mediation on the ground, but agreed that on neither side was the offence mortal. Roger put his bullet into George's shoulder, and George neatly nicked Roger's arm; but neither wound was at all serious.

Both agreed that honour had been satisfied and, like good English­men, promised in front of their seconds to bear no malice after the affair. Three nights later they dined together but the evening was a complete frost. Neither of them had a single idea in common and they parted disliking one another every bit as cordially as they had before their duel.

*****

After fulfilling his dinner engagement with George, Roger returned home. Four days later he was just about to go out shooting, with his father, when the Chief Constable of the district was announced, and old Ben said that it was Roger the gentleman had come to see.

The thought that leapt to Roger's mind was that it must be in connection with the duel. He knew that the edicts against duelling were being enforced with considerable rigour, but his ex-adversary had assured him when they had dined together that since both their wounds were slight no action would be taken. However, as Gunston might lose his commission in the event of an official inquiry, Roger was much more concerned for him than for himself, as he went into the library to interview his visitor.

For a few moments they exchanged courteous platitudes, then the Chief Constable came to the point and said: "The present is one of the most disagreeable tasks I have ever been called on to perform, Mr. Brook. 'Tis for that reason I decided to wait upon you myself. It would appear that you are but recently returned from France and fell into some trouble while in that country?"

"Yes," Roger agreed quietly. In the back of his mind he had always feared that something of this kind might arise, but did not feel that any good purpose could be served by denying it.

The Chief Constable hesitated awkwardly. "The fact is, Mr. Brook, although it distresses me mightily, I have here a warrant for your extradition to face a charge of murder."

Roger smiled a Uttle nervously. " Tis true that I kttled a man, but 'twas the outcome of a duel. I pray you give me a moment to consult my father on what course I should pursue in this."

"With pleasure, Mr. Brook. In fact"—the Chief Constable winked a knowing brown eye—"if 'twould be of any service to you I'll willingly forget the matter for twenty-four hours and return to learn, er—your decision then."

" 'Tis monstrous kind of you," Roger smiled as he left the room, "but I would like to speak with my father first."

When Admiral Brook heard what was afoot he nearly exploded. But he agreed with Roger's own view, that the music should be faced and an appeal made to Mr. Pitt for his intervention.

In consequence, Roger surrendered himself there and then; but on his appearing before the local justices they immediately accepted bail for him, on his father's surety, at the nominal sum of one hundred guineas.

At home once more he immediately wrote a full account of his meeting with de Caylus and sent it to the Prime Minister. But the days that followed were very anxious ones. He knew better than most people the relations which now existed in such matters between England and France. Ever since the signing of the Commercial Treaty in the summer of '86 such warrants for extradition had been promptly honoured in both countries. Contrary to immemorial custom, even debtors who had fled abroad were now being returned in considerable numbers to answer to their creditors; and in a case where murder was the charge only the most exceptional circumstances were likely to hold up tiie execution of the warrant.

On the 30th he received a reply from the Prime Minister's secretary. It simply said that Mr. Pitt would be pleased if Mr. Brook would wait upon him at No. 10 at 4 o'clock in the afternoon of the 4th of November.

The letter could hardly have been more non-committal and, still feeling a considerable degree of anxiety, Roger proceeded to London on the 2nd.

*****

The 3rd of November proved to be a sunny autumn day and that afternoon Roger decided to go for a walk in Hyde Park. As he was strolling beside the drive that led towards Kensington Palace his eye roved over the handsome equipages in which numerous belles of the town were taking an airing.

Suddenly he caught sight of Georgina, being bowled along behind two high-stepping greys. At the same moment she saw him and called to her coachman to bring her barouche to a halt beside the railings. Leaning out from it, she exclaimed:

"Why! Roger Brook! Odds life! Can it in truth be you; or is it a ghost I see?"

"Nay, 'tis indeed myself!" Roger cried. "And prodigious glad I am at this chance meeting. Egad! You look more ravishing than ever."

Her billowing skirt of striped taffeta showing beneath a rich fur cloak, and her lovely face aglow from the fresh air, under a great picture hat decked with ostrich feathers, she was indeed a ravishing sight. At his words she dropped her black eyes in mock coyness and said: "I vow you flatter me, Sir. Yet I had cause to think you had quite forgotten me."

" 'Tis not so!" he protested quickly. "I swear to that. I inquired for you the first day I was home, and learned that you were then abroad. But did you never receive my letter?"

"Nay!" she cried, with sudden vehemence; her whole manner changing as she looked him squarely in the face. "Roger, thou art a very swine! Not one single line in four whole years have I had from thee!"

"Georgina," he smiled, "You have not changed one iota, and the violent variation of your moods is as bewitching as ever. But I had reason for my non-communicativeness, since in the first years I had little to tell you that was to my credit. When can we meet so that I may crave pardon for my shortcomings? for I would go on bended knee to retrieve my place in your good graces."

Her eyelashes fluttered and she pretended to become coy again. "I am a wife, Sir; and owe a duty to my husband."

Roger knew quite well that she was only acting, and he found her mummery enchanting. Playing up to it, he said: "Then needs must I seek your window, and bring a scaling ladder to it on the next dark night."

Suddenly she sat back and roared with laughter. Then, her dark eyes mocking,- she replied: "I think you are improved and show a readier wit than when last we met; and 'twould intrigue me to learn what life has made of you. For old time's sake I will cancel all my engagements this night and give you supper."

"You will!" he cried eagerly. "Where shall I wait upon you, and at what hour?"

Putting a finger to her red lips she leaned right out of the barouche, and whispered: "Be on the corner of Charles Street and St. James's Square at nine o'clock. I'll see to it that there is a plain carriage waiting there, and 'twill bring you to me."

Before he could reply she had pulled the string attached to her coachman's little finger. Then she waved her muff to Roger and gave him a glowing smile. The coachman cracked his whip and, as Roger made a gallant leg, the spanking pair of greys bore Georgina swiftly away.

For the next few hours Roger's thoughts were so full of the mysterious assignation he had been given by his first flame that it took them completely off his anxieties as to what Mr. Pitt might have to say to him the following afternoon.

Returning to Amesbury House, where he was staying with Droopy, he donned the best suit in his new wardrobe, had Droopy's barber do his hair, and availed himself of some of Droopy's most expensive scent. At a quarter to nine, malacca cane in hand and looking as fine a figure as the most exquisite French Marquis who ever graced the galleries of Versailles, he took up his position on the corner of St.

James's Square. A few minutes later a closed carriage without arms on its door panels drove up, and he got into it.

At a smart trot the vehicle carried him along to Hyde Park Corner, down the vale into Knightsbridge and out to Kensington village. There, it turned right and mounted a steep hill, then it entered the private grounds of a small villa and drew up before the porch.

The moment he had stepped out of the carriage and closed its door it turned on the gravel sweep and drove away. As he approached the porch the door opened to disclose a trim female figure. Recognising the girl as Georgina's personal maid at Highcliffe, Roger cried:

"Why, Jenny! 'Tis good to see you again. How fares it with you?"

She bobbed him a curtsey. "The better for seeing you, Mr. Brook, and well, considering the hours we keep. Milady awaits you. Sir, if you'll be pleased to follow me."

The girl crossed the hall and ushered him into a room the size of which surprised him, seeing the smallness of the house. It was very lofty; the far end of it was shut off completely by heavy red curtains falling from the ceiling to the floor. Opposite them a cheerful wood fire roared in a wide grate. Before it was set a table for two, laid with crystal, silver and white napery. On one side of the fireplace there was a big generously-cushioned sofa and on it, dressed in a low-cut crimson gown that made a perfect foil to her dark beauty, sat Georgina.

As Roger entered she regally extended her hand, on which there flashed a huge solitaire diamond, and, bowing low, he kissed it.

"Come sit by me, and tell me all about yourself," she smiled up at him.

"Nay," he declared as he sank on 'to the sofa cushions, " 'Tis the privilege of the fair sex to have their innings first; and if I am to conceal nothing from you 'twill take all of two hours to relate my story. So let us save it till after we have supped. But be pleased to tell me of this strange little house. 'Tis a most agreeable spot, but quite a way from the city. Do you live here?"

"Lud, no!" she ejaculated, "I've a mansion in St. James's Square. This is but a pied-a-terre. There is a lovely view, though, from Campden Hill, here, and 'tis no great distance from the Metropolis. I come here when I am wearied of the madding crowd, and wish to be alone."

"Only then?" Roger cocked a wicked eyebrow.

"For shame, Sir! If you let your glances imply such things I shall turn you out. 'Twas built by an artist as his studio, and now 'tis mine. I paint here when the spirit moves me."

"That sounds good cover for other amusements," he smiled, un­deterred.

"Indeed, 'tis true. Both Mr. Gainsborough and Sir Joshua Reynolds come here to give me lessons, and the rivalry between the two old gentlemen is vastly amusing. But, strap me! I do believe, Sir, from the impudent look upon your face, that you still question my veracity."

He made her a mocking little bow.. "Madame, 'twould never enter my mind to doubt a thing you say. 'Twas only—well, the seclusion of the spot, and the mysterious manner in which I was conveyed hither.

You must forgive me, if in my poor debased mind I found some resemblance to those charming petit maisons outside Paris, in which the French nobles entertain the ladies of the Opera."

"Damn you, Roger!" she laughed. " 'Tis true enough, and from you I have no desire to conceal it. The paintings are there behind the curtain; but the place has other uses. As you well know, I have never been a subscriber to the view that the male of the species should alone be privileged to indulge in such diversions."

"And your husband?" Roger grinned. "Is he then complaisant, or is he liable to interfere with my digestion, by leaping in through the window with a drawn sword, after supper?"

"Oh, Humphrey!" She shrugged. "His pack of hounds mean more to him than his wife. He has a box in Leicestershire, and is there now. If he has had a good day's cubbing, he will be dead drunk ere this."

"Was it a love match when it started, that has gone cold upon you since?" asked Roger. "Or was it the other thing?"

"The other thing; although we liked one another well enough, and are still good friends."

"I thought, though, that you'd vowed you'd take nothing less than an Earl," Roger twitted her; "and he's a mere baronet."

Her eyes became serious. "Fret not over that, my friend. I am but twenty-one and have ample time ahead of me. If Humphrey does not break his neck over the sticks, the poor fellow will burst himself like a rotten barrel, ere long. I'll still be a Duchess before I die. I swear it."

"What induced you to marry Sir Humphrey, then?"

At Roger's question her face changed to a glowing enthusiasm. " 'Twas Stillwaters, his place in Surrey. The first moment I set eyes on it, I knew I had to have it. 'Twas designed by William Kent. It has a terrace a quarter-mile long and a great Palladian portico with forty-foot pillars. The house overlooks lawns that slope down to a fine lake, and the whole is surrounded by birchwoods. You must come down to stay, Roger, and you will fall in love with it just as I did. 'Tis near Ripley, and not far from London. Just the right distance for week-end parties; and it gives me the perfect setting in which to entertain the great world that I have always hankered after."

He smiled. "I think I understand; and I see that you have been true to your original design. Do you get all the pleasure you anticipated from playing the great hostess?"

"Indeed I do! To stick a mental pin into one statesman's bottom, and let another kiss me behind a screen, gives me the greatest satis­faction when the planned intentions behind such acts become apparent."

They were silent for a moment, then he said: "Since your husband is so wrapped up with country pursuits, how did you manage to drag him abroad; or did you go alone?"

"Lud, no!" she exclaimed with a laugh. " 'Twas to Italy I went, and had I been unescorted I verily believe those passionate Italians would have raped me in the street. As it was I had to have a footman sleeping outside my door each night. But Humphrey would have made a poor companion for such a journey. I travelled with my father, and I'd sooner see the sights with him than I would with most men."

"You're monstrous fortunate," Roger told her. "Or perhaps I should say, clever. Since it seems to me you both have your cake and eat it."

" 'Tis the art of life to know what one wants and have at it," she smiled. "And if I am any judge, dear Roger, I think from the fine figure you now cut, that you have become not altogether inept at that."

"If so, I owe more than I can ever repay to you," he said seriously. "You not only made me a man, but by your gift of yourself to me showed me what was worth having and what to cast aside. Had things been otherwise my first experiences might well have been so sordid as to alter my whole outlook."

She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. " 'Tis good to hear that you are fastidious in your loves, and not become a rake. I hate a man who turns up the skirts of every wench he meets in a dark passage."

For a further ten minutes they talked of old times. Then Jenny came in with a tray of hot dishes that she put upon a heater, on a side table, and left them to help themselves.

While Roger opened the champagne, Georgina served the food, then they sat down to supper.

They ate Well but with long pauses between each dish for talking over their wine. Halfway through the meal Georgina urged him to keep her in suspense no longer about his doings, so he began with their parting four years before and his meeting with Dan, the smuggler. He told her how he had narrowly escaped both becoming a prisoner in the French galleys, and drowning; of his meeting with De Roubec and how the Chevalier had swindled him out of her jewels; of old Doctor Aristotle Fenelon and their disastrous meeting with Joseph Fouché; of how Athehais had rescued him and he had then become the whipping boy of a lawyer's apprentices; of the Legers' kindness to him and his hopeless longing for Athehais; of his employment by the Marquis de Rochambeau to go into the matter of the Domaine de St. Hilaire; of his becoming the Marquis's junior secretary and his friendship with the Abbé de Perigord; of his promotion on the Abbé d'Heury's death and of Athehais's illness; of her love for him and the international intrigues of her father; of the appearance of de la Tour d'Auvergne upon the scene and of Athehais's engagement; of his duel with de Caylus and his flight with the eloping couple; of his escape from France and the assault that Fouché had made upon him; of his dash to London and recovery of the letter; of his interview with Mr. Pitt and his mission to the United Provinces; of his duel with George Gunston and of his present danger of being extradited to France on a warrant for murder.

When he had done it was nearly midnight, although Georgina had hardly spoken a word, except from time to time to encourage him to go on. So fascinated was she by his story that they had not even moved, and were still sitting over the table. At length, when the tale was told, she said:

"Thou hast fulfilled all thy promise, Roger. 'Twas a hard, uphill road that thou wast forced to tread, but having breasted the hill I foresee a great future for thee."

He made a grimace. "I pray you may be right; but unless Mr. Pitt is prepared to divert the normal course of justice on my behalf I may yet find myself handed over to the tender mercies of the French; and if that occurs M. de Rochambeau will make it his business to see that I die upon a scaffold."

"Have no fear," she smiled. "In view of your services, Billy Pitt could never look in his own mirror again did he refuse to intervene. But he is a good and loyal friend, so I have no doubt at all that he will do so without pressing. Even if he did not you have no cause to worry. It so chances that the Count d'Adhemar, who is the French Ambassador here, is one of my beaux. I vow that at my request he will get the charge against you withdrawn from the French Courts."

Roger looked up quickly. "Could you really do that? Mr. Pitt will protect me, I am convinced, by staying the execution of the warrant here. But if you could get the charge withdrawn in France that would be a boon indeed. 'Twould mean that I could return there as a free man, if I wished."

"And 'tis your wish to return to France, Roger?" she asked.

"Why, yes; I'd like to, sometime."

"Not now, at once, to rejoin Athenais?"

He shook his head. "Nay, she is married, and to my friend. That is over and done with."

"Do you miss her very much?"

"Yes,, damnably."

"You loved her very deeply, then?"

"I did indeed. She was wondrous beautiful."

"Was she more beautiful than I am, Roger?"

He smiled. "I would be a most ungracious guest were I to tell you so. But I will tell you something else. You have some quality that she lacked. Maybe 'tis your vitality, your good-fellowship, your warmth, your forthright mind, or maybe, 'tis nought but your infectious laughter. I do not know. Yet there it is. You have some gift, some power, some touch, that will attract men to you long after your beauty fades, and Athenais has become the pleasant but quite uninteresting mother of a grown-up family."

"I thank thee, Roger," she smiled back. "It seems then that thou wert in love with her beauty rather than herself; yet that makes no difference to the longing one can feel in such a case. Many a poor girl, knowing nothing of your mind, is yet destined to suffer the most desperate cravings for kind looks from those damnably attractive blue eyes of thine. Dost know that thou hast grown monstrous hand­some, Roger?"

"I have no cause to quarrel with my looks," he said slowly; "so we must make a pretty pair. For if I'll not say that thou art the loveliest creature in the world, I'll say that thou hast no rival in the length and breadth of Britain."

Georgina stood up. Although the room was still pleasantly warm she threw another log on the fire. Then she came round behind him and, laying a hand on his shoulder, checked his movement to rise from the table.

For a moment she remained there in silence. Then she began to stroke his cheek softly with the tips of her fingers, as she whispered: "Yes, thou hast grown monstrous handsome, Roger darling; and 'tis pleasant to think that thou doest not find me ill to look upon. Dost know that we two are marooned here for the night? That is, unless thou hast the wish to undertake a plaguey long walk back to London. Thinkest thou that it lies within my power to console thee a little for the loss of Athenais?"

*****

At four o'clock on the following afternoon Roger was shown into Mr. Pitt's office. The Prime Minister greeted him kindly, offered him a glass of port and, when he was seated, said at once:

"Mr. Brook, I pray you concern yourself no further about this warrant for your extradition. I have had it quashed; and would have written to tell you so, had I not wished to express my thanks to you in person for all that you have done; and let you have, in confidence, the final outcome of the affair in which you were so deeply involved."

"I am most grateful to you, Sir," Roger murmured, but the Prime . Minister waved his thanks aside.

"Sir James Harris wrote Lord Carmarthen of the assistance you gave us on your trip abroad, so I know you to be informed of events in the United Provinces up to the end of last month. Since then, Amsterdam, the last stronghold of the rebels, surrendered on the 10th of October, and the French have entirely come to heel. Unable to face a war they have suffered the humiliation of being compelled to entirely reverse their policy. Last week the Court of Versailles exchanged declarations with us, agreeing for the future to sustain the Stadtholder in the full rights of his office."

Roger nodded. "Then there is no longer any fear of a European conflagration?"

"None, I am happy to say; and that is very largely due to Sir James Harris and yourself. You will, I know, be pleased to hear that His Majesty is rewarding Sir James for his long and arduous toil on the nation's behalf, by elevating him to the peerage under the title of Baron Malmesbury. As to yourself, your case presents certain diffi­culties, since it is contrary to all practice to confer a public award for work of a secret nature. But if I can be of service to you in any way you have but to name it."

Mr. Pitt paused for a moment, then added: "I have no desire to pry into your private affairs, but if a gift of money would be of any assistance to you?"

"I thank you, Sir." Roger smiled. "But my father has recently made me an allowance of three hundred a year, and that is ample for my needs."

The Prime Minister took a swig of port, and said: "None the less, I shall feel aggrieved unless I can do something for you. Surely, now that you are returned to England, you intend to take up some career. With gifts such as yours you should go far."

"Ah, there's the rub, Sir," Roger replied. "My father set his heart upon my entering the Navy, but four years ago I ran away to France rather than be sent to sea. I've no wish to remain idle, yet those four years are now entirely lost to me. I am not trained to anything except secretarial work and I've no desire to do that all my life. Yet no other opening seems to offer."

Mr. Pitt stood up, and began to walk about the room, as he asked: "What type of work would really hold your interest, and what qualifications have you?"

"I am said to have a flair for languages, Sir. I now speak French as well as most Frenchmen and know a little German. I have proved to myself that I do not lack for courage or resource and would meet any man with either sword or pistol, were I called upon to do so. As to the type of work I would prefer, 'tis hard to put a name to it, but I would like to retain my independence of action as far as possible, and I've a strong desire to travel again. But I fear I shall find it monstrous hard to launch myself in any manner that will fulfil those wishes."

"I think not," said young Mr. Pitt, laying a kindly hand on Roger's shoulder. "Consider yourself launched, Mr. Brook. England and I have a hundred uses for a man like you."