"My instructions were to take you back at once, sir."

"Come and have a drink first, at any rate," Geoffrey Anselman insisted.

The orderly shook his head, the two soldiers were barring the gateway.

"Some one from the War Office has arrived and is waiting to speak to
Captain Granet," he announced.

"We're all coming over after lunch," young Anselman protested. "Wouldn't
that do?"

The man made no answer. Granet, with a shrug of the shoulders, stepped
into the motor-car. The two soldiers mounted motor-cycles and the little
cavalcade turned away. Granet made a few efforts at conversation
with his companion, but, meeting with no response, soon relapsed into
silence. In less than twenty minutes the car was slowing down before
the approach to the Hall. The lane was crowded with villagers and people
from the neighbouring farmhouses, who were all kept back, however, by a
little cordon of soldiers. Granet, closely attended by his escort, made
his way slowly into the avenue and up towards the house. A corner of the
left wing of the building was in ruins, blackened and still smouldering,
and there was a great hole in the sand-blown lawn, where a bomb had
apparently fallen. A soldier admitted them at the front entrance and his
guide led him across the hall and into a large room on the other side
of the house, an apartment which seemed to be half library, half
morning-room. Sir Meyville and a man in uniform were talking together
near the window. They turned around at Granet's entrance and he gave
a little start. For the first time a thrill of fear chilled him, his
self-confidence was suddenly dissipated. The man who stood watching
him with cold scrutiny was the one man on earth whom he feared--Surgeon
Major Thomson.

CHAPTER XXIII

It was a queer little gathering in the drawing-room of Market Burnham
Hall, queer and in a sense ominous. Two soldiers guarded the door.
Another one stood with his back to the wide-flung window, the sunlight
flashing upon his drawn bayonet. Granet, although he looked about him
for a moment curiously, carried himself with ease and confidence.

"How do you do, Sir Meyville?" he said. "How are you, Thomson?"

Sir Meyville, who was in a state of great excitement, took absolutely no
notice of the young man's greeting. Thomson pointed to a chair, in which
Granet at once seated himself.

"I have sent for you, Captain Granet," the former began, "to ask you
certain questions with reference to