--I have had it all day--that
Henry might come, too. It is overdue now. Any one might arrive here. Oh,
please, for my sake, hurry away!" she begged, the tears streaming from
her eyes. "If anything should happen, I could never forgive myself. It
is because you have been so dear, so true and honourable, that all this
time has been wasted. If it were to cost you your life!"

She was seized by a fit of nervous anxiety which became almost a
paroxysm. She buttoned his coat for him and almost dragged him to the
door. And then she stopped for a moment to listen. Her eyes became
distended. Her lips were parted. She shook as though with an ague.

"It is too late!" she faltered hysterically. "I can hear Henry's voice!
Quick! Come to the window. You must get out that way and through the
postern gate."

"Your husband will have seen the car," he protested. "And besides, there
is your dressing-bag and your travelling coat."

"I shall tell him everything," she declared wildly. "Nothing matters
except that you escape. Oh, hurry! I can hear Henry talking to Jimmy
Dumble--for God's sake--"

The words died away upon her lips. The door had been opened and closed
again immediately. There was the quick turn of the lock, sounding like
the click of fate. Sir Henry, well inside the room, nodded to them both
affably.

"Well, Philippa? You weren't expecting me, eh? Hullo, Lessingham! Not
gone yet? Running it a trifle fine, aren't you?"

Lessingham glanced towards the fastened door.

"Perhaps," he admitted, "a trifle too fine."

Sir Henry was suddenly taken by storm. Philippa had thrown herself into
his arms. Her fingers were locked around his neck. Her lips, her eyes,
were pleading with him.

"Henry! Henry, you must forgive me! I never knew--I never dreamed what
you were really doing. I shall never forgive myself, but you--you will
be generous."

"That's all right, dear," he promised, stooping down to kiss her.
"Partly my fault, of course. I had to humour those old ladies down at
Whitehall who wanted me to pose as a particularly harmless idiot. You
see," he went on, glancing towards Lessingham, "they were always afraid
that my steps might be dogged by spies, if my position were generally
known."

Philippa did not relinquish her attitude. She was still clinging to her
husband. She refused to let him go.

"Henry," she begged, "oh, listen to me! I have so much to confess, so
much of which I am ashamed! And yet, with it all, I want