e disguised as a British officer. It might
have got your brother into most serious trouble."

"It was Dona who wouldn't let me take it," choked Marjorie. "She said at
the time that she didn't trust Chrissie. I've been a blind idiot all
along!"

"We were none of us clever enough to find her out."

It was just about a week after this that a letter arrived at
Brackenfield, addressed to Marjorie in Chrissie's handwriting. It bore a
Dutch stamp and postmark, and had been opened by the censor. Mrs.
Morrison perused it first in private, then, calling Marjorie to the
study, handed it to her to read. It bore no address or date, and ran
thus:--

"MY DEAR MARJORIE,

"This letter is to say a last good-bye to you, for you will
never hear from me or of me again. By now you will have found
out all. Believe me that what I did was not by my own wish. I
hated and loathed it all the time, but I was forced by others to
do it. I cannot tell you how wretched I was, and how I envied
you, who had no dreadful secret to keep. We are going back to
our own people" (here a portion of the letter was blackened by
the censor). "It was all for his sake" (again a portion was
erased). "I want to tell you, Marjorie, how I have loved you.
You have been the one bright spot in my life, and I can never
forget your kindness. I have your portrait inside my locket, and
I shall wear it always, and have it buried with me in my coffin.
Try to think of me as if I were already dead, and forgive me if
you can.

"From your still loving friend,
"CHRISSIE."

Marjorie put down the letter with a shaking hand.

"Is it right to forgive the enemies of our country?" she asked Mrs.
Morrison.

"When they are dead," replied the Principal.

Marjorie went out slowly from the study, and stood thinking for a
moment. Then, going upstairs to her cubicle, she looked in her treasure
box, and found the little gold locket containing the portrait of her
one-time friend. It had been a birthday present from Chrissie. She
refrained from opening it, but, taking it down to the dingle, she flung
it into the deepest pool in the brook. She walked back up the field with
a feeling as though she had attended a funeral.

Dona met her in the quadrangle.

"I've just seen Miss Norton," she confided. "The specialist came to look
at Eric yesterday, and he gives quite good hopes for him. He's to go
into a children's hos