s employer's face. "But I've
got a prisoner in the stone grotto in the shrubbery. The moor her into
the garden through the door from. Watched, and nabbed her clean as a
whistle as she was hiding from me----"

Nugent stopped the flow of self-complacence with a repressive gesture,
and strode to the open window.

"Ah, that spying ferret, Louise Aubin," he said hastily. "Well, come
with me and let her out, Tuke. You acted for the best, no doubt, but we
cannot shut young women up in stone grottos against their will in the
twentieth century. We must chance her having seen Mr. Chermside, and try
and induce her to keep quiet about it if she has. You'll have to
apologize, and I shall have to square her--if I can."

Tuke, pretending to be abashed, followed into the nearer shrubbery,
where, as soon as they were hidden from the window, Nugent stopped
short. "You idiot!" he hissed, with suppressed fury. "Why did you blurt
that out before Chermside? You ought to have said that you wanted to
speak to me in private. It wasn't the Frenchwoman, I know, because she
was at the Manor House twenty minutes ago. Who is it that you caught
lurking about--that Mallory girl?"

"It's her right enough."

"Hasn't she screamed or made any attempt to attract attention?"

"Not a blessed sound have I heard, and she's been there the best part of
twenty minutes now."

"That's curious," said Nugent, puckering his brows in a thoughtful
frown. "She's just the sort to yell for release till her voice gave out.
She must have been frightened by your ugly mug, I suppose, and doesn't
want to fetch you back again. Well, anyhow, she must stay there now till
we've done with the _Cobra_, and then we must make what excuses we can.
Of course you know as well as I do that there's no danger of
interference from the police, for the simple reason that Aubin hasn't
laid her information. I have been merely holding them over our friend in
the library as a bogey to induce him to go quietly on board the
steamer."

"I tumbled to that much," replied Tuke, with a cunning smile.

"Well, don't relax your vigilance on that account," was Nugent's
injunction. "There may be other prowlers--this girl's father, for
instance, or the onion-seller, Pierre Legros. Either of them might upset
our arrangements. And, above all, be within call when I want you."

Tuke growled assent, and Nugent returned to the library. "I am sorry to
have left you alone so long to-day, but there has been