him go on thinking so."

Granet nodded.

"Is he going to take us to the workshop?"

"I believe so," she assented.

They had hard work to keep up with Sir Meyville as he led them hastily
down the little stretch of shingle to where a man was sitting in a boat.
They all jumped in. The man with the oars looked doubtfully for a moment
at Granet, but pulled off at once when ordered to do so. They rowed
round to the front of the queer little structure. A man from inside held
out his hand and helped them up. Another young man, with books piled on
the floor by his side, was making some calculations at a table. Almost
the whole of the opening of the place was taken up by what seemed to
be a queer medley of telescopes and lenses pointing different ways. Sir
Meyville beamed upon them as he hastily turned a handle.

"Now," he promised, "you shall see what no one has ever seen before.
See, I point that arrow at that spot, about fifty yards out. Now look
through this one, Isabel."

The girl stooped forward, was silent for a moment, then she gave a
little cry of wonder. She clutched Granet's arm and made him take her
place. He, too, called out softly. He saw the sandy bottom covered with
shells, a rock with tentacles of seaweed floating from it, several huge
crabs, a multitude of small fishes. Everything was clear and distinct.
He looked away with a little gasp.

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed.

Sir Meyville's smile was beatific.

"That is my share," he said. "Down in the other workshop my partners are
hard at it. They, too, have met with success. You must tell your men,
Captain Chalmers, never to relax their vigil. This place must be watched
by night and by day. My last invention was a great step forward, but
this is absolute success. For the next few months this is the most
precious spot in Europe."

"It isn't Captain Chalmers, father," Isabel interrupted.

Sir Meyville seemed suddenly to become still. He looked fixedly at
Granet.

"Who are you, then?" he demanded. "Who are you, sir?"

"I am Captain Granet of the Royal Fusiliers, back from the Front,
wounded," Granet replied. "I can assure you that I am a perfectly
trustworthy person."

"But I don't understand," Sir Meyville said sharply. "What are you doing
here?"

"I came to call upon your daughter," Granet explained. "I had the
pleasure of meeting her at lunch at Lady Anselman's the other day. We
have been playing golf together at Brancaster."

Sir Meyville began