The Duke had not greeted me on my entrance, and he seemed to be asleep in his chair. But at the sound of the electric bell, which announced the opening of the safe, he turned sharply round.

"Is that you, Ducaine?"

"Yes, your Grace," I answered.

"What are you doing there?"

"I have brought up the first batch of copy, sir," I answered.

"You have sealed it properly?"

"With Lord Chelsford's seal, sir," I told him.

He turned round in his chair sharply.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Lord Chelsford gave me an old signet ring before he left, sir," I said, "with a very peculiar design. I wear it attached by a chain to an iron bracelet round my arm."

"Let me see it," the Duke ordered.

I took off my coat, and baring my arm, showed him the ring hanging by a few inches of strong chain from the bracelet. He examined the design curiously.

"How do you detach it?" he asked.

"I cannot detach it, sir," I answered. "The bracelet has a Bramah lock, and Lord Chelsford has the key. He used to wear it many years ago when he was Queen's messenger."

The Duke examined the ring long and searchingly. Then he looked from it into my face.

"You mean to say that you cannot take that off?"

"A locksmith might, sir. I certainly could not."

The Duke shrugged his shoulders.

"Chelsford's methods seem to me to savour a little of _opera bouffe_,"

he remarked drily. "For my own part I believe that these marvellous doc.u.ments would be perfectly safe in the unlocked drawer of my desk. I do not believe any of these stories which come from Paris about copies of our work being in existence. I do not wish you to be careless, of course, but don't overdo your precautions. This place is scarcely so much a nest of conspirators as faddists like Chelsford and Ray would have us believe."

"I am glad to hear that you think so, sir," I answered. "Our precautions do seem a little elaborate, but it is quite certain that the Winchester papers were disturbed."

"I do not choose to believe it, Ducaine," the Duke said irritably.

"Kindly remember that!"

"Very good, sir," I answered. "There is nothing else you wish to say to me?"

"There is something else," the Duke answered coldly. "I understand that the police yesterday, on a sworn affidavit, were granted a search warrant to examine your premises for stolen property. What the devil is the meaning of this?"

"I think, sir," I answered, "that the stolen property was a pretext. It seems that during the last few days has come to light that the man whose body I found on the sands was not washed in from the sea, but was a stranger, who had arrived in Braster the previous evening, and had made inquiries as to where I lived. It seems to be the desire of the police, therefore, to connect me in some way with the affair."

The Duke looked at me searchingly.

"I presume," he said, "that they had something in the nature of evidence, or they would scarcely have been able to swear the affidavit for the search warrant."

"They have nothing more direct, sir, than that the body was found close to my cottage, that he had presumably left Braster to see me, and that I was foolish enough to persuade the person, of whom the dead man made these inquiries in Braster, not to come forward at the inquest."

"Stop! Stop!" the Duke said irritably. "You did what?"

"The young woman of whom he inquired was close at hand when I discovered the body of the man," I said. "She told me about him. I was a little upset, and I suggested that there was no necessity for her to disclose the fact of having seen him."

"It was a remarkably foolish thing of you to do," the Duke said.

"I am realizing it now, sir," I answered.

"Did this person call on you at all?" the Duke asked.

"No, sir. You may remember that it was the night of Colonel Ray's lecture. He called to see me on his way back and found me ill. I believe that this person looked in at the window and went away. I saw no more of him alive after this."

"You have some idea, I presume, as to his ident.i.ty?"

"I have no definite information, your Grace," I answered.

The Duke did not look at me for several moments.

"I am afraid," he said, stiffly, "that you may experience some inconvenience from this most ill-advised attempt of yours to suppress evidence which should most certainly have been given at the inquest.

However, I have no doubt that your story is true. I have some inquiries now before me from the police station. I will do what I can for you.

Good-evening, Ducaine."

"Good-evening, sir," I answered. "I am much obliged to you."

I walked homewards across the park. The carriage had gone from the private road, and Ray was alone when I entered. It was impossible to tell what had happened from his expression. He sat stretched out in my easy chair, smoking furiously, and his face was impa.s.sive. Grooton served us with dinner, and he ate and drank with only a few curt remarks. But afterwards, when I was deep in my work, he suddenly addressed me.

"Boy," he then said, "turn round and listen to me."

I obeyed him at once.

"Listen well," he said, "for I am not given to confidences. Yet I am going to speak to you of the secret places of my life."

I laid down the pen which I had been holding between my fingers, and turned my chair. I judged that it was not necessary for me to speak, nor apparently did he think so.

"I have been soldiering all my days," he said, "since I was a child almost. It is a glorious life. G.o.d knows I have never grudged a single month of it. But when one comes back once more to dwell amongst civilians one realizes that there is another side to life. It is so with me. I am not given to doubts or to asking advice from any man.

But the time has come when I have the one and need of the other."

He paused, knocked out some ashes from his pipe, and relighted it.

"I have loved two women in my life, Guy," he went on slowly. "The first was your mother."

I started a little, but I still held my peace. He looked hard into the ashes of the fire, and continued.