t," he agreed. "I shall come for my answer at ten
o'clock. I wonder--"

He stood looking at her, his eyes hungry to find some sign in her face.
There was so much kindness there, so much that might pass, even,
for affection, and yet something which, behind it all, chilled his
confidence. He left his sentence uncompleted and turned towards the
door. Suddenly she called him back. She held up her finger. Her whole
expression had changed. She was alarmed.

"Wait!" she begged. "I can hear Dick's voice. Wait till he has crossed
the hail."

They both stood, for a moment, quite silent. Then they heard a little
protesting cry from Helen, and a good-humoured laugh from Richard. The
door was thrown open.

"You don't mind our coming through to the gun room, Phil?" her brother
asked. "We're not--My God!"

There was a queer silence, broken by Helen, who stood on the threshold,
the picture of distress.

"I tried to get him to go the other way, Philippa."

Richard took a quick step forward. His hands were outstretched.

"Bertram!" he exclaimed. "Is this a miracle? You here with my sister?"

Lessingham held out his hand. Suddenly Richard dropped his. His
expression had become sterner.

"I don't understand," he said simply. "Somebody please explain."

CHAPTER XXIX

For a few brief seconds no one seemed inclined to take upon themselves
the onus of speech. Richard's amazement seemed to increase upon
reflection.

"Maderstrom!" he exclaimed. "Bertram! What in the name of all that's
diabolical are you doing here?"

"I am just a derelict," Lessingham explained, with a faint smile. "Glad
to see you, Richard. You are a day earlier than I expected."

"You knew that I was coming, then?" Richard demanded.

"Naturally," Lessingham replied. "I had the great pleasure of arranging
for your release."

"Look here," Richard went on, "I'm groping about a bit. I don't
understand. Forgive me if I run off the track. I'm not forgetting our
friendship, Maderstrom, or what I owe to you since you came and found me
at Wittenburg. But for all that, you have served in the German Army and
are an enemy, and I want to know what you are doing here, in England, in
my brother-in-law's house."

"No particular harm, Richard, I promise you," Lessingham replied mildly.

"You are here under a false name!"

"Hamar Lessingham, if you do not mind," the other assented. "I prefer my
own name, but I do not fancy that the use of it would ensure me a ver