"That's heasy enough. You _must_ get the letter."

"But how--I tell you----"

"Get it," reiterated the messenger, whose potations had made him optimistic. "Blow this bally hold barn into the next county, hif need be, but open that door and get it."

The Secretary looked despairingly at the despatch, and tossing it to John, said:

"And what am I to answer to this?"

"H'I'll answer it, hif you'll let me come to the table."

"You!"

"Yes--and you can copy and sign it. Hit won't be the first private note h'I've hanswered, or the first despatch h'I've written, heither," and with this rebuke he composed the following:

"To "His Excellency, "The Honourable, "------

"SIR:--

"I have the honour to acknowledge your Excellency's private despatch of the 20th inst., and to inform you in reply that the person mentioned in it is now a guest in this house, also that I have discovered the present location of the papers desired, and hope soon to be able to place them in your hands.

"I am, Sir, "Your obedient servant, "------.

"Sunday, 12.45 A. M."

The Secretary read and approved, and in a few moments had produced a copy of the same, which was duly signed and sealed.

"And now," he said, "you must be off. There's a train to London about six."

"Yes, sir. Hit's a very cold night, sir."

"No, you've had enough, and you need to keep your wits about you," and he led the way downstairs.

"John," he said, as he let the faithful servitor out, "I believe you're right in what you said."

"Habout the woman, sir?"

"Of course not. I tell you the lady knows nothing whatever of the matter; pray disabuse your mind of that absurd idea, once and for all. I mean about the letter."

"Yes, sir."

"I've got to get it again, John. Send me the best book you can find on combination locks. I _will_ get it! Impossibilities don't count!"

"Yes, sir. Good-night, sir, and remember, hit's the woman!"

CHAPTER XX

THE WISDOM OF AGE

The Secretary pa.s.sed one of the worst nights of his life. His pride, self-esteem, and youthful estimation of his abilities as a diplomat had received a crushing blow. He told himself that he was not fit to copy letters in an office, much less to undertake delicate negotiations in which the honour of his country was involved. The conspirators had known him for what he was, a conceited young a.s.s, and had egregiously fooled him to the top of his bent. They had regained the doc.u.ment without half trying; even Kingsland, whose intellect he had looked down on, had completely taken him in. It seemed as if he must die of shame when it became known. He would be disgraced and turned out of the service with ridicule. Then of his despair was born that resolution to _do_, which sets all obstacles at naught, and succeeds because it declares the possibility of the impossible.

He must retrieve himself, he must regain that letter, and hereafter his self-reproaches were mingled with every scheme leading to its recovery, that his brain could concoct.

He was downstairs soon after seven.

Entering the great hall, he found Lady Isabelle in sole possession, but equipped to go out.

"Whither so early?" he said.

"I'm going away--that is--out."

"Away?" he queried, as he saw her eyes fill with tears, and noted that she was closely veiled "Can I serve you?"

"No--yes," she replied, uncertain how to answer him. "Could I ask you to do me a very great favour?"

"Most certainly."

"But it's something you won't like to do."

"Lady Isabelle," he said quietly, "we've been very good friends, and I may tell you that I've a suspicion of what you intend to do this morning. Won't you trust me, and allow me to help you in any way in my power?"

"Yes," she said, after a moment's hesitation. "I will, because I'm sure you mean what you say, and I'm in desperate straits. You remember the answer I gave to a question of yours last evening?"

"That you did not care for me--yes."

"I might have added," she said shyly, casting down her eyes, "that I cared for someone else."

"Lieutenant Kingsland?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you're making a wise choice, Lady Isabelle?" he asked, feeling that he ought not to allow this state of affairs to continue when he was almost certain that the young officer was practically a criminal, whom it might be his duty to have arrested any day, yet prevented by his instructions from preferring any charges against him to Lady Isabelle.

"Don't, please," she said. "You misjudge him."

"I hope I do."

"You do not understand. How should you? Have you ever seen him in his uniform? He is a picture, and you know," sinking her voice, "his family dates from the Conquest."

The Secretary shrugged his shoulders. He'd had enough of warning people for their own good, so he contented himself with remarking that a disregard for the Decalogue seemed compatible with an unbroken descent from the Norman robber.

"Now you're cynical," she cried, "but I shan't argue with you, for I love him, and we're to be married this morning in the chapel. Everything has been arranged, and in fifteen minutes I shall be his wife."

"That's very interesting," said Stanley. "But where do I come in?"

"I need your help."