s comes true. By the way, who is that?"

Only one window showed a light behind them; in it there stood a lamp,
and beside it, seated at a table, was a dear old ruddy-faced woman in a
country cap. She was bending over her knitting and stopping
occasionally to stroke a large black cat upon a stool beside her.

"That is Martha, the only servant I have left."

The secretary chuckled.

"She might almost personify Britannia," said he, "with her complete
self-absorption and general air of comfortable somnolence. Well, au
revoir, Von Bork!" With a final wave of his hand he sprang into the
car, and a moment later the two golden cones from the headlights shot
through the darkness. The secretary lay back in the cushions of the
luxurious limousine, with his thoughts so full of the impending
European tragedy that he hardly observed that as his car swung round
the village street it nearly passed over a little Ford coming in the
opposite direction.

Von Bork walked slowly back to the study when the last gleams of the
motor lamps had faded into the distance. As he passed he observed that
his old housekeeper had put out her lamp and retired. It was a new
experience to him, the silence and darkness of his widespread house,
for his family and household had been a large one. It was a relief to
him, however, to think that they were all in safety and that, but for
that one old woman who had lingered in the kitchen, he had the whole
place to himself. There was a good deal of tidying up to do inside his
study and he set himself to do it until his keen, handsome face was
flushed with the heat of the burning papers. A leather valise stood
beside his table, and into this he began to pack very neatly and
systematically the precious contents of his safe. He had hardly got
started with the work, however, when his quick ears caught the sounds
of a distant car. Instantly he gave an exclamation of satisfaction,
strapped up the valise, shut the safe, locked it, and hurried out on to
the terrace. He was just in time to see the lights of a small car come
to a halt at the gate. A passenger sprang out of it and advanced
swiftly towards him, while the chauffeur, a heavily built, elderly man
with a gray moustache, settled down like one who resigns himself to a
long vigil.

"Well?" asked Von Bork eagerly, running forward to meet his visitor.

For answer the man waved a small brown-paper parcel triumphantly above
his head.

"You can give