ful for the dark."

"Ah, Tony ..." said the girl, as if he had countered with a weapon
that somehow wasn't quite fair. "Come and sit down. We'll leave the
lights for a bit, and then we needn't draw the curtains: it's such a
perfect evening." She spoke quite naturally now, standing by the side
of the wide fireplace with one hand resting on the mantel. The soft
evening air strayed in at the open windows, and the little pile of
aromatic embers on the hearth glowed suddenly.

The King's Messenger sat down on the arm of the vacant chair, and
looked up at her as she stood in all her fair loveliness against the
dark panelling. He opened his lips as if to speak, and then apparently
thought better of it. The girl met his gaze a little curiously, as if
waiting for some explanation; none apparently being forthcoming she
shouldered the responsibility for the conversation.

"I'm all alone," she explained, "because Uncle Bill is up in the
laboratory. The air's full of mystery, too; there are five Admirals up
there, and one's a perfect dear..." Cecily paused for breath. "His
eyes go all crinkley when he smiles," she continued.

"Lots of people's do," conceded the visitor.

Cecily shot him a swift glance and looked away again.

"He smiled a good deal," she continued musingly. "And Uncle Bill's
awfully thrilled about something. He was up all night fussing in the
laboratory, and when he came down to breakfast this morning he hit his
egg on the head as if it had been a German and said, '_Got_ it!'"

The King's Messenger nodded sapiently, as if these unusual occurrences
held no mystery for him. Silence fell upon the room again: from a
clock tower in Westminster came the clear notes of a bell striking the
hour. The sound seemed to remind the visitor of something.

"I was told to come here," he announced suddenly, as if answering a
question that the silence held.

The white-clad figure stiffened.

"_Told_ to!" echoed Cecily. "May I ask----"

"They told me at the Admiralty," explained Simple Simon, the King's
Messenger, "I was to call for despatches."

"Oh..." said Cecily, nodding her fair head, "I _see_. I confess I was
a little puzzled ... but that explains ... and it was War-time, and you
couldn't very well refuse, could you?" She surveyed him mercilessly.
"They shoot people who refuse to obey orders in War-time, don't
they--however distasteful or unpleasant the orders may be? You just
had to come, in fact,