hall. She stretched
her weary back, and leaned on her rake. Her eyes were fixed on the door
opposite. It was opening. Someone was standing in the hall, and
apparently speaking. He slammed the door and came down the path towards
the gate. There was no mistaking the dark, clean-shaven face; she knew
its owner again instantly. At the gate he paused and lighted a
cigarette, then walked rapidly away in the direction of the railway
station.

The detective turned from his flower-beds, humming a tune with apparent
indifference.

"Can you identify him?" he whispered.

"Certainly I can. Without a doubt it's the man I saw this morning."

"We'll just catch him at the corner of the park, then. I've a couple of
men waiting," chuckled the detective, taking a short cut over the
flower-beds, regardless of tender seedlings.

Lorraine was not near enough to witness the actual arrest. What happened
next was that Mr. Barton Forrester came and took her back to the police
station, where she formally identified the prisoner. Then she thankfully
changed into her own clothes, and went with Uncle Barton into the town
to get some tea.

Little Uncle Barton was as excited and pleased as a boy at the result of
the adventure. His face beamed with satisfaction as he ordered cakes at
the cafe.

"We've done a good day's work, Lorraine," he confided, lowering his
voice lest bystanders should overhear. "That fellow has been under
suspicion, but they couldn't catch him tripping. Dodson, the detective,
believes he'll turn out a notorious spy, in which case they'll have
plenty of witnesses against him on other charges, without needing to
bring you into the matter again. They'll deal with him under martial
law. There are far too many of these spies about the country--half of
the foreigners who are here ought to be interned! You looked A1 in that
rig-out" (his eyes twinkled). "Will you stick to your job as
lady-gardener in the park?"

"Not for worlds!" exclaimed Lorraine eloquently, helping herself to a
second cup of tea.

CHAPTER XXI.

Trouble

When Lorraine looked back upon those few warm days in July, she decided
that they had contained more concentrated adventure than had been
provided in the whole course of her life. Events seemed to follow
quickly one upon another.

On the day after her exciting experience at St. Cyr she went to school
as usual. It was an effort to do so, for she was tired, but she had a
record for punctual atten