face at that moment I felt sure it would have advertised
a sense of shame, despite his passivity. But Mademoiselle.... Well, I
could see in the dusk the shadow of her face, and it was a handsome
shadow. Almost I could see her smile. They were seated in the recesses
of the saloon. I moved towards them.

"I suppose you understand the hang of this, Sir John," I said drily.

"I'm not a patent detective," he answered with his arrogant sneer, but
I paid no heed, for I felt sure of settling him then and there.

"I suppose it has occurred to you to reflect on whose grace we have
depended for our electric supply," I said mildly.

"I know that it comes from the engine-room, if that's what you mean,"
he replied bluntly.

"And now it's cut off," I said.

There was a pause, and it was the lady who broke it.

"What is it that you mean, doctor?"

I addressed her. "The mutineers cut off the light preparatory to an
attack."

"You are the most wonderful sleuth-hound, Dr. Phillimore," said
Barraclough with a hard laugh; "your talents are quite thrown away."

"I regret to say they are here," I answered sharply. "And where would
he be if he had paid some attention to the patent detective? I tell you
again, Sir John Barraclough, that we've got to expect an attack
to-night, and that's why the light is gone."

A man may endure hostility and defeat; he may suffer shame and
injustice; he may undergo pangs of jealousy and remorse. All these
things are dispiriting or humiliating, but I declare that I would
willingly experience them all if I might save myself from the supreme
dishonour of appearing in a ridiculous _role_. I had spoken strongly
because I felt warmly, and there was a note of dictatorial assurance in
my voice which might have convinced, or at least silenced, Barraclough.
But I had left the keys down, and to my shocking discomfiture as I
finished my declamation the saloon was at a stroke flooded with light.

The radiance discovered to me Mademoiselle's piquante face, her eyes
smiling, her lips full and pouting, and close beside her Barraclough's
fair Saxon jowl. He grinned at me, but said nothing, for which perhaps
I should have been grateful. But I was not.

"But this is in our honour, then?" suggested Mademoiselle Yvonne
prettily.

I had no fancy for her, but I did not mind her little sarcasm.

I bowed. "No doubt to celebrate my oratory," I said, recovering myself.
"But as we do not know how long Mr. Holgate will co