ad believed that it was part
of her second nature, scoffed at as being the outcome of one of the
finer forms of selfishness.

She told herself that she had come there to decide, and decision came no
nearer to her. A late afternoon star shone weakly in the sky. A faint,
vaporous mist obscured the horizon and floated in tangled wreaths upon
the face of the sea. Only that line of sand seemed still clear-cut and
distinct, and as she glanced along it her eyes were held by something
approaching, something which seemed at first nothing but a black, moving
speck, then gradually resolved itself into the semblance of a man on
horseback, galloping furiously. She watched him as he drew nearer and
nearer, the sand flying from his horse's hoofs, his figure motionless,
his eyes apparently fixed upon some distant spot. It was not until he
had come within fifty yards of her that she recognised him. His horse
shied at the sight of her and was suddenly swung round with a powerful
wrist. Little specks of sand, churned up in the momentary stampede
of hoofs, fell upon her skirt. For the rest, she watched the struggle
composedly, a struggle which was over almost as soon as it was begun.
Captain Griffiths leaned down from his trembling but subdued horse.

"Lady Cranston!" he exclaimed in astonishment.

"That's me," she replied, smiling up at him. "Have you been riding off
your bad temper?"

He glanced down at his horse's quivering sides. Back as far as one could
see there was that regular line of hoof marks.

"Am I bad-tempered?" he asked.

"Well," she observed, "I don't know you well enough to answer that
question. I was simply thinking of yesterday evening."

He slipped from his horse and stood before her. His long, severe face
had seldom seemed more malevolent.

"I had enough to make me bad-tempered," he declared. "I had tracked
down a German spy, step by step, until I had him there, waiting for
arrest--expecting it, even--and then I got that wicked message."

"What was that wicked message after all?" she enquired.

"That doesn't matter," he answered. "It was from a quarter where they
ought to know better, and it ordered me to make no arrest. I have sent
to the War Office to-day a full report, and I am praying that they may
change their minds."

Philippa sighed.

"If you hadn't received that telegram last night," she observed, "it
seems to me that I should have been a widow to-day."

He frowned, and struck his boot heavily w