ain."

"It is evident," Stamfordham repeated inflexibly, "that some one must
have got hold of it with or without your knowledge. I warned you
yesterday, you remember, about taking your--any one in your household
into your confidence."

"And I did not," Rendel said, grasping his meaning. "My wife did not
even know that I had the papers to transcribe. She does not know it
now."

Stamfordham paused a moment. He could not in words accuse Rendel's wife,
whatever his silence might imply. Then he spoke with emphatic sternness.

"Rendel," he said, "by whatever means the thing happened, we must know
how. I must have an explanation."

Rendel was powerless to speak.

"For you must see," Stamfordham went on, "what a terrible catastrophe
this might have been--the danger is not over yet, in fact, although I
may be strong enough for my colleagues to condone the fact that the
public has been told of this before themselves, and the country may be
strong enough for foreign Powers to do the same. But, as a personal
matter, I must know how it got out, and I repeat, I must have an
explanation. For your own sake you must explain."

Rendel felt as if the ground were reeling under his feet.

"I will try," he said, still feeling as if he were in some wild dream.

"When you have made inquiries," Stamfordham said, still speaking in a
brief tone of command, "you had better come and tell me the result. I
shall be at the Foreign Office till twelve."

"Till twelve. Very well," said Rendel, feeling as if there was a dark
chasm between himself and that moment. Mechanically he let Lord
Stamfordham out, and stood as the latter mounted and rode away. Then he
turned back into the house.

CHAPTER XVI

He went into the dining-room first--Rachel was still upstairs--and
picked up the _Arbiter_ again, looking at it with this new, terrible
interpretation of what he saw in it. There it was, as damning evidence
as ever a man was convicted upon, the map that no one but himself and
the two principals had seen, reproduced, roughly it is true, but still
unmistakably, from the paper that he alone in the house had had in his
possession. He turned hurriedly to the brief but guarded commentary
evolved at a venture by Pateley, but nevertheless very near the truth.
Pateley had played a bold game indeed, but he was playing it as
skilfully and watchfully as was his wont. Rendel threw down the paper
with a gesture of despair, then clenched his hands. If