lectric torch which he took from his pocket,
he studied particularly a certain portion of the giant chart, made some
measurements with a pencil, some notes in the margin, and closed it
up again with an air of satisfaction. Then he resumed his seat, drew
a folded slip of paper from his breast pocket, a chart from another,
turned up the lamp and began to write. His face, as he stooped low,
escaped the soft shade and was for a moment almost ghastly. Every now
and then he turned and made some calculations on the blotting-paper by
his side. At last he leaned back with a little sigh of relief. He had
barely done so before the door behind him was opened.

"Are we going to stay in here, Mummy, or are we going into the
drawing-room?" Nora asked.

"In here, I think," he heard Philippa reply.

Then they both came in, followed by Helen. Nora was the first to see him
and rushed forward with a little cry of surprise.

"Why, here's Dad!" she exclaimed, flinging her arms around his neck.
"Daddy, how dare you be sitting here all by yourself whilst we are
having dinner! When did you get back? What a fish!"

Sir Henry closed down his desk, embraced his daughter, and came forward
to meet his wife.

"Fine fellow, isn't he, Nora!" he agreed. "Well, Philippa, how are you?
Pleased to see me, I hope? Another new frock, I believe, and in war
time!"

"Fancy your remembering that it was war time!" she answered, standing
very still while he leaned over and kissed her.

"Nasty one for me," Sir Henry observed good-humouredly. "How well you're
looking, Helen! Any news of Dick yet?"

Helen attempted an expression of extreme gravity with more or less
success.

"Nothing fresh," she answered.

"Well, well, no news may be good news," Sir Henry remarked consolingly.
"Jove, it's good to feel a roof over one's head again! This morning has
been the only patch of decent weather we've had."

"This morning was lovely," Helen assented. "Philippa and I went and sat
up in the woods."

Philippa, who was standing by the fire, turned and looked at her husband
critically.

"We have some men dining," she said. "They will be out in a few minutes.
Don't you think you had better go and make yourself presentable? You
smell of fish, and you look as though you hadn't shaved for a week."

"Guilty, my dear," Sir Henry admitted. "Mills is just getting me
something to eat in the gun room, and then I am going to have a bath and
change my clothes."

"And shave,