My great aunt was his grandmother or something of that sort But I only met him once, years ago. Apart from politics now, I don't profess to admire his politics?I never did. How men like your father and Torrington can mix themselves up with that d.a.m.ned socialist crew?But apart from politics, what sort of a man is Torrington?"

"I never saw him," said Frank. "I've been at school, you know, Uncle Lucius."

"Quite so, quite so. But your father now. Your father must know him intimately. I know he's rich, immensely rich. American mother, American wife, dollars to burn, which makes it all the harder to understand his politics. But his private life?what does your father think of him?

"Last time father stopped there," said Frank, "he was called in the morning by a footman who asked him whether he'd have tea, coffee or chocolate. Father said tea. 'a.s.sam, Oolong, or Sooching, sir,' said the footman, 'or do you prefer your tea with a flavour of Orange Pekoe?'"

"By gad!" said Sir Lucius.

"That's the only story I've ever heard father tell about him," said Frank, "but they say??"

"That he has the devil of a temper." said Sir Lucius, "and rides roughshod over every one? I've been told that."

"Father never said so."

"Quite right. He wouldn't, couldn't in fact It wouldn't be the thing at all. The fact is, Frank, that Torrington's coming here tomorrow, wired from Dublin to say so. He and Lady Torrington. I can't imagine what he wants here. I'd call it d.a.m.ned insolence in any one else, knowing what I must think of his rascally politics, what every decent man thinks of them. But of course he's a kind of cousin. I suppose he recollected that. And he's a pretty big pot. Those fellows invite themselves, like royalty. But I don't know what the devil to do with him, and your aunt's greatly upset. She says it's against her principles to be decently civil to a man who's treated women the way Torrington has."

"If the women had let him alone??" said Frank, "I know. I know. One of them boxed his ears or something, pretty girl, too, I hear; but that only makes it worse. That sort of thing would get any man's back up. But your aunt?that is to say, my sister?doesn't see that. That's the worst of strong principles. You never can see when your own side is in the wrong. But it makes it infernally awkward Torrington's coming here just now. And Lady Torrington! It upsets us all. I wonder what the devil he's coming here for?"

"I don't know," said Frank. "Could he be studying the Irish question?

Isn't there some Home Rule Bill or something? Father said next year would be an Irish year."

"That's it. That must be it. Now I wonder who he expects me to have to dinner to meet him. There's no use my wiring to Thormanby to come over for the night. He wouldn't do it. Simply loathes the name of Torrington.

Besides, I don't suppose Thormanby is the kind of man he wants to meet.

He'd probably rather hear Brannigan or some one of that sort talking d.a.m.ned Nationalism. But I can't ask Brannigan, really can't, you know, Frank. I might have O'Hara, that's the doctor. I don't suppose my sister would mind now. She quite dropped Christian Science as soon as she heard Torrington was coming. But I don't know. O'Hara drinks a bit."

Sir Lucius sat much longer than usual in the dining-room. Frank found himself yawning with uncontrollable frequency. The long day on the sea had made him very sleepy. He did his best to disguise his condition from his uncle, but he felt that his answers to the later questions about Lord Torrington were vague, and he became more and more confused about Sir Lucius' views of Woman Suffrage. One thing alone became clear to him. Sir Lucius was not anxious to join his sister in the drawingroom.

Frank entirely shared his feeling.

But in this twentieth century it is impossible for gentlemen to spend the whole evening in the dining-room. Wine drinking is no longer recognised as a valid excuse for the separation of the s.e.xes and tobacco is so universally tolerated that men carry their cigarettes into the drawingroom on all but the most ceremonial occasions. Sir Lucius rose at last.

"It's very hot," said Frank. "May I sit out for a while on the terrace, Uncle Lucius, before I go into the drawingroom. I'd like a breath of fresh air."

He hobbled out and found a hammock chair not far from the drawingroom window. The voices of Miss Lentaigne and his uncle reached him, the one high-pitched and firm, the other, as he imagined, apologetic and deprecatory. The sound of them, the words being indistinguishable, was somewhat soothing. Frank felt as the poet Lucretius did when from the security of a sheltered nook on the side of a cliff he watched boats tossing on the sea. The sense of neighbouring strain and struggle added to the completeness of his own repose. A bed of mignonette scented the air agreeably. Some white roses glimmered faintly in the twilight Far off, a grey still shadow, lay the bay. Frank's cigarette dropped, half smoked, from his fingers. He slept deliciously.

A few minutes later he woke with a start Priscilla stood over him. She was wrapt from her neck to her feet in a pale blue dressing-gown. Her hair hung down her back in a tight plait. On her feet were a pair of well worn bedroom slippers. The big toe of her right foot had pushed its way through the end of one of them.

"I say, Cousin Frank, are you awake? I've been here for hours, dropping small stones on your head, so as to rouse you up. I daren't make any noise, for they're still jawing away inside and I was afraid they'd hear me. Could you struggle along a bit further away from the window? I'll carry your chair."

They found a nook behind the rose-bed which Priscilla held to be perfectly safe. Frank settled down on his chair. Priscilla, with her knees pulled up to her chin, sat on a cushion at his feet.

"Aunt Juliet hunted me off to bed at half-past nine," she said.

"Dastardly tyranny! And she sent Mrs. Geraghty to do my hair?not that she cared if my hair was never done, but so as to make sure that I really undressed. Plucky lot of good that was!"

The precaution had evidently been of no use at all; but neither Miss Lentaigne nor Mrs. Geraghty could have calculated on Priscilla's roaming about the grounds in her dressing-gown.

"The reason of the tyranny," said Priscilla, "was plain enough. Aunt Juliet was smoking a cigarette."

"Good gracious!" said Frank. "I should never have thought your aunt smoked."

"She doesn't. She never did before, though she may take to it regularly now for a time. I simply told her that she oughtn't to chew the end.

No real smoker does; and I could see that she didn't like the wads of tobacco coming off on her tongue. Besides, it was beastly waste of the cigarette. She chawed off quite as much as she smoked. You'd have thought she'd have been obliged to me for giving her the tip, but quite the contrary. She hoofed me off to bed."

"But what has made her take to smoking?"

"She had to," said Priscilla. "I don't think she really likes it, but with her principles she simply had to. It's part of what's called the economic independence of women and she wants to dare the Prime Minister to put her in gaol. I don't suppose he will, at least not unless she does something worse than that; but that's what she hopes. You know, of course, that the Prime Minister is coming tomorrow."

"It's not the Prime Minister," said Frank, "only Lord Torrington."

"That'll be a frightful disappointment to Aunt Juliet after sending down to Brannigan's for those cigarettes. Rose?she's the under housemaid?told me that. Beastly cigarettes they are, too. Rose said the footman said _he_ wouldn't smoke them. Ten a penny or something like that. But if Lord Torrington isn't the Prime Minister what is Aunt Juliet doing out the long gallery?"

"Lord Torrington is rather a boss," said Frank, "though he's not the Prime Minister. He's the head of the War Office."

Priscilla whistled.

"Great Scott," she said, "the head of the War Office! And Aunt Juliet hasn't the least idea what's bringing him down here. She said so twice."

"So did Uncle Lucius. He kept wondering after dinner what on earth Lord Torrington wanted."

"But we know," said Priscilla. "This is what I call real sport. I have her jolly well scored off now for sending me to bed. I shouldn't wonder if they made you a knight It's pretty well the least they can do."

"What are you talking about? I don't know what's bringing him here unless it's something to do with Home Rule."

"Who cares about Home Rule? What he's coming for is the spies. Didn't you say that this Torrington man is the head of the War Office? What would bring him down here if it isn't German spies? And we're the only two people who know where those spies are. Even we don't quite know; but we will tomorrow. Just fancy Aunt Juliet's face when we march them up here in the afternoon, tied hand and foot with the anchor rope, and hand them over to the War Office. We shall be publicly thanked, of course, besides your knighthood, and our names will be in all the papers. Then if Aunt Juliet dares to tell me ever again to go to bed at half past nine I shall simply grin like a dog and run about through the city. She won't like that. You're quite, sure, Cousin Frank, that it really is the War Office man who's coming?"

"Uncle Lucius told me it was Lord Torrington, and I know he's the head of the War Office because my father's the under-secretary."

"That's all right, then. I was just thinking that it would be perfectly awful if we captured the spies and it turned out that he wasn't the man who was after them."

"He may not be after them," said Frank. "It doesn't seem to me a bit likely that he is. You see, Priscilla, my father has a lot to do with the War Office and I know he rather laughs at this spy business."

"That's probably to disguise his feelings. Spies are always kept dead secrets and if possible not let into the newspapers. Perhaps even your father hasn't been told. He doesn't appear to be head boss, and they mightn't mention it to him. That's what makes it such an absolutely gorgeous scoop for us. We'll get off as early as we can tomorrow. You couldn't start before breakfast, could you? The tide will be all right."

"I could, of course, if you don't mind wheeling me down again in that bath-chair."

"Not a little bit I'll get hold of Rose before I go to bed, and tell her to call us. Rose is the only one in the house I can really depend on.

She hates Aunt Juliet like poison ever since that time she had the bad tooth. We can pick up some biscuits and things at Brannigan's as we pa.s.s. There's a good chunk of cold salmon somewhere, for we only ate quite a small bit at dinner tonight I'll nail it if I can keep awake till the cook's in bed, but I don't know can I. This kind of excitement makes me frightfully sleepy. I suppose it's what's called reaction.

Sylvia Courtney had it terribly after the English literature prize exam.

It was headaches with her and general snappishness of temper. Sleepiness is worse in some ways, though not so bad for the other people. However, I'll do the best I can, and if we don't get the cold salmon we'll just have to do without."

She rose from her cushion, stretched herself and yawned unrestrainedly.

Then she rubbed both eyes with her knuckles.

"Priscilla," said Frank, "before you go I wish you'd tell me??"

"Yes. What?"

"Do you really believe those two people we saw today are German spies?"