there," said the rather handsome man. "How is Mrs. Bond?" he
asked, calling her by her new name.

"Quite well. She's expecting you to lunch. But she has some impossible
people there to-day--the Brailsfords, father, mother, and son. He made
his money in motor-cars during the war. They live over at Dorking in
a house with forty-nine bedrooms, and only fifteen years ago Mrs.
Brailsford used to do the housework herself. Now they're rolling in
money, but can't keep servants."

"Ah, my dear, it's the same everywhere," said Benton as he entered the
car after her. "I've just got back from Madrid. It is the same there.
The world is changing. Crooks prosper while white men starve. Honesty
spells ruin in these days."

They drove over the railway bridge and up the steep hill out of
Guildford seated side by side. Benton had been her "uncle" ever since
her childhood days, and a most kind and considerate one he had always
proved.

Sometimes when at school she did not see him for periods of a year or
more and she had no home to go to for holidays. Her foster-father was
abroad. Yet her school fees were paid regularly, her allowance had been
ample, and her clothes were always slightly better than those of the
other girls. Therefore, though she called him "uncle," she looked upon
Benton as her father and obeyed all his commands.

Just about noon the car swung into the gates of Shapley, and soon they
were indoors. Benton threw off his coat, and in an abrupt manner said to
the servant:

"I want to see Mrs. Bond at once."

Then, turning to Louise, he exclaimed:

"I want to see Molly privately. I have some urgent business to discuss
with her before your profiteer friends arrive."

"All right," replied the girl cheerily. "I'll leave you alone," and she
ascended the broad oak staircase, the steps of which were worn thin by
the tramp of many generations.

A few moments later Charles Benton stood in the morning-room, where Mrs.
Bond still sat before the welcome log fire.

"Back again, Charles!" she exclaimed, rising to greet him. "Well, how
goes it?"

"Not too well," was his reply as he closed the door. "I only got back
last night. Five days ago I saw The Sparrow at the Palace Hotel in
Madrid. He's doing all he can in young Henfrey's interests, but he is
not too hopeful."

"Why?"

"I can't make out," said the man, apparently much perturbed. "He wired
me to go to Madrid, and I went. But it seems that I've been on a fool's
erran