* * * * *

Some twenty minutes later the widow came out, followed by Don. Mrs.
Duveen's eyes were red, but she had recovered her composure, and now
held in her hand the silver cigarette case from the mantelpiece.

"May I show you this, sir," she said, repeating her quaint curtsey to
Paul. "Michael valued it more than anything he possessed."

Paul took the case from her hand and examined the inscription:

To Sergeant Michael Duveen,
-- Company, Irish Guards,
from Captain Donald Courtier,
in memory of February 9th, 1916.

Opening the case, he found it to contain a photograph of Don. The
latter, who was watching him, spoke:

"My affairs would have terminated on February the ninth, Paul, if Duveen
had not been there. He was pipped twice."

"His honour doesn't tell you, sir," added Mrs. Duveen, "that he brought
Michael in on his back with the bullets thick around him."

"Oh! oh!" cried Don gaily. "So that's the story, is it! Well, never
mind, Mrs. Duveen; it was all in the day's work. What the Sergeant did
deserved the V.C., and he'd have had it if I could have got it for him.
What I did was no more than the duty of a stretcher-bearer."

Mrs. Duveen shook her head, smiling wanly, the thin hand pressed to her
breast. "I'm sorry you couldn't meet Flamby, sir," she said. "She should
have been home before this."

"No matter," replied Don. "I shall look forward to meeting her on my
next visit."

They took their departure, Mrs. Duveen accompanying them to the gate and
watching Don as long as he remained in sight.

"Did you observe the drawings on the wall?" he asked Paul, as they
pursued their way along Babylon Lane.

"I did. They were original and seemed to be interesting."

"Remarkably so; and they are the work of our wood nymph."

"Really! Where can she have acquired her art?"

"From her father, I gather. Paul, I am keenly disappointed to have
missed Flamby. The child of such singularly ill-assorted parents could
not well fail to be unusual. I wonder if the girl suspects that her
father was not what he seemed? Mrs. Duveen has always taken the fact for
granted that her husband was a nobleman in disguise! It may account for
her adoration of a man who seems to have led her a hell of a life. I
have placed in her hands a certain locket which Duveen wore attached to
a chain about his neck; I believe that it contains evidence of his real
identity, but he clearly intended hi