e window that he might
examine them. His countenance lengthened. Rotherby took his stand beside
his mother's chair, both observing Mr. Caryll, who, in his turn, was
observing Mr. Templeton, a faint smile playing round the corners of his
mouth. Once they saw him stoop and whisper something in Hortensia's ear,
and they caught the upward glance of her eyes, half fear, half question.

Mr. Green, by the door, stood turning his hat in his hands, furtively
watching everybody, whilst drawing no attention to himself--a matter in
which much practice had made him perfect.

At last Templeton turned, folding the letters. "This is very grave, my
lord," said he, "and my Lord Carteret will no doubt desire to express
in person his gratitude and his deep sense of the service you have done
him. I think you may confidently expect to find him as generous as you
hope."

He pocketed the letters, and raised a hand to point at Mr. Caryll. "This
man?" he inquired laconically.

"Is a spy of King James's. He is the messenger who bore my father that
letter from the Pretender, and he would no doubt have carried back the
answer had my father lived."

Mr. Templeton drew a paper from his pocket, and crossed to the desk. He
sat down, and took up a quill. "You can prove this, of course?" he said,
testing the point of his quill upon his thumb-nail.

"Abundantly," was the ready answer. "My mother can bear witness to the
fact that 'twas he brought the Pretender's letter, and there is no lack
of corroboration. Enough, I think, would be afforded by the assault
made by this rogue upon Mr. Green, of which, no doubt, you are already
informed, sir. His object--this proved object--was to possess himself of
those papers that he might destroy them. I but caught him in time, as
my servants can bear witness, as they can also bear witness to the
circumstance that we were compelled to force an entrance here, and to
use force to him to obtain the letters from him."

Mr. Templeton nodded. "'Tis a clear case, then," said he, and dipped his
pen.

"And yet," put in Mr. Caryll, in an indolent, musing voice, "it might be
made to look as clear another way."

Mr. Templeton scowled at him. "The opportunity shall be afforded you,"
said he. "Meanwhile--what is your name?"

Mr. Caryll looked whimsically at the secretary a moment; then flung his
bomb. "I am Justin Caryll, Sixth Earl of Ostermore, and your very humble
servant, Mr. Secretary."

The effect was ludicrous--f