en to have remembered and to have been so
faithful!" Philippa observed, looking away for a moment.

"He's a real good sort," Felstead declared enthusiastically, "although
Heaven knows why he's turned German! He worked like a slave for me. I
dare say he didn't find it so difficult to get me better quarters and a
servant, and decent food, but when they told me that I was free--well,
it nearly knocked me silly."

"The dear fellow!" Philippa murmured pensively.

"Do you remember him, either of you?" Felstead continued. "Rather
good-looking he was, and a little shy, but quite a sportsman."

"I--seem to remember," Philippa admitted.

"The name sounds familiar," Helen echoed. "Do have some more chutney,
Dick."

"Thanks! What a pig I am making of myself!" he observed cheerfully.
"You girls will think I can't talk about any one but Maderstrom, but the
whole business beats me so completely. Of course, we were great pals, in
a way, but I never thought that I was the apple of his eye, or anything
of that sort. How he got the influence, too, I can't imagine. And oh!
I knew there was something else I was going to ask you girls,"
Felstead went on. "Have you ever had a letter, or rather a letter each,
uncensored? Just a line or two? I think I mentioned Maderstrom which I
should not have been allowed to do in the ordinary prison letters."

Felstead was helping himself to cheese, and he saw nothing of the quick
glance which passed between the two women.

"Yes, we had them, Dick," Philippa told him. "It was one afternoon--it
doesn't seem so very long ago. And oh, how thankful we were!"

Felstead nodded.

"He got them across all right, then. Tell me, did they come through
Holland? What was the postmark?"

"The postmark," Philippa repeated, a little doubtfully. "You heard what
Dick asked, Helen? The postmark?"

"I don't think there was one," Helen replied, glancing anxiously at
Philippa.

Felstead set down his glass.

"No postmark? You mean no foreign postmark, I suppose? They were posted
in England, eh?"

Philippa shook her head.

"They came to us, Dick," she said, "by hand."

Felstead was, without a doubt, astonished. He turned round in his chair
towards Philippa.

"By hand?" he repeated. "Do you mean to say that they were actually
brought here by hand?"

Perhaps something in his manner warned them. Philippa laughed as she
bent over his chair.

"We will tell you how they came, presently," she declared, "but
not