u will remember. Our new secretary is going to be
my nephew. He is very stolid and honest, and fortunately not a
chatterbox. He is going to be the nominal secretary, but I want you to
be the one who really does the work."

"I am afraid I don't understand!" I was forced to admit.

"It will mean," Lord Cheisford said, "some privation and a great deal of
inconvenience for you. But I am going to ask you to face it, for the
end to be gained is worth it. I want you also to be at the 'Brand,' but
to lie hidden all the day time. You can have one of the upstair rooms
fitted as a writing room. Then you and my nephew can do the
transposition. And beyond all that I want you to think--to think and to
watch."

My heart leaped with joy to think that after all I was not to go into
exile. Then the quiet significance of Lord Chelsford's last words were
further impressed upon me by the added gravity of his manner.

"Mr. Ducaine," he said, "you must see for yourself that I am running a
very serious risk in making these plans with you behind the backs of the
Duke of Rowchester and Colonel Ray. The Duke is a man of the keenest
sense of honour, as his recent commercial transactions have shown. He
has parted with a hundred thousand pounds rather than that the shadow of
a stigma should rest upon his name. He is also my personal friend, and
very sensitive of any advice or criticism. Then Ray--a V.C., and one of
the most popular soldiers in England to-day--he also is quick tempered,
and he also is my friend. You can see for yourself that in acting as I
am, behind the backs of these men, I am laying myself open to very grave
trouble. Yet I see no alternative. There is a rank traitor either on
the Military Board or closely connected with the Duke's household. He
does not know it, nor do they know it, but everyone of his servants has
been vigorously and zealously watched without avail. The circle has
been drawn closer and closer, Mr. Ducaine. Down in Braster you may be
able to help me in narrowing it down till only one person is within it.
Listen!"

Lady Chelsford entered, gorgeous in white satin and a flaming tiara.
She looked at me, I thought, a little gravely.

"Morton," she said, "I want you to spare me a minute. Mr. Ducaine will
excuse you, I am sure."

Lord Cheisford and she left the room together. I, feeling the heat of
the apartment, walked to the window, and raising the sash looked out
into the cool dark evening. At the door, drawn