"Whe? Why, oor Martin!" cried Martha. "He's a gentleman born, G.o.d bless him!"

"And, what is much more important, Mrs. Bolland, he is a gentleman bred," said the colonel.

The scene in the kitchen of the White House had been too dramatic that some hint of it should not reach the village that night. Soon all Elmsdale knew that the mystery of Martin's parentage had been solved, and great was the awe of the boy's playmates when they heard that his father was a "real live colonel i' t' army." A garbled version of the story came to Mr. Beckett-Smythe's ears, and he called on Colonel Grant at the "Black Lion" next day.

He arrived in state, in a new Mercedes car, handled by a chauffeur replica of Fritz Bauer. Beckett-Smythe had hardly mastered his surprise at the colonel's confirmation of that which he had regarded as "an incredible yarn" when Mrs. Saumarez drove up. She, too, recalling the message brought by Martin from her husband's comrade-in-arms, came to verify the strange tale told by the Misses Walker. Angle accompanied her, and the girl's eyes shot lightning at Martin, who was on the point of guiding his father to the moor when Mr. Beckett-Smythe put in an appearance.

The lawyer had departed for London by the morning train; the three older people and the two youngsters gathered in the room thus set at liberty, Mrs. Atkinson having remodeled it into a sitting-room for the colonel's use.

Mrs. Saumarez hailed the stranger effusively.

"It is delightful to run across anyone who knew my husband," she said.

"In this remote part of Yorkshire none seems to have ever heard of him.

Believe me, Colonel Grant, it is positively a relief to meet a man who recognizes my name."

She may have intended this for an oblique thrust at Beckett-Smythe, relations between the Hall and The Elms having been somewhat strained since the inquest. The Squire, a good fellow, who had no inkling of Angle's latest escapade, hastened to make amends.

"You two must want to chat over old times," he said breezily. "Why not come and dine with me to-night? I have only one other guest--an Admiralty man. He's prowling about the coast trying to select a suitable site for a wireless station."

Now, Mrs. Saumarez would have declined the invitation had Beckett-Smythe stopped short at the first sentence. As it was, she accepted instantly.

"Do come, Colonel Grant," she urged. "What between the Navy and the Intelligence Department it should be an interesting evening.... Oh, don't look so surprised," she went on, with an engaging smile. "I still read the _Gazette_, you know."

"And what of the kiddies?" said Beckett-Smythe. "They know my boys. Your chauffeur can bring them home at nine. By the way, the meal will be quite informal--come as you are."

"What do you say, Martin?" said the colonel.

"I shall be very pleased, sir; but may I--ask--my mother first?"

The boy reddened. His new place in the world was only twenty-four hours old, and his ideas were not yet adjusted to an order of things so astounding that he thought every minute he would wake up and find he had been dreaming.

"Oh, certainly," and a kindly hand fell on his shoulder. "I am glad you spoke of it. Mrs. Bolland is worthy of all the respect due to the best of mothers."

"I'll go with you, Martin," announced Angle suddenly.

Martin hesitated. He was doubtful of the reception Mrs. Bolland might give the minx who had nearly caused him to break his neck, and, for his own part, he wanted to avoid Angle altogether. She was a disturbing influence. He feared her not at all as a spitfire. It was when she displayed her most engaging qualities that she was really dangerous, and he knew from experience that her mood had changed within the past five minutes. On alighting from the car she would like to have scratched his face. Now he would not be surprised if she elected to walk with him hand in hand through the village street.

His father came to the rescue.

"Let us all go and see Mrs. Bolland," he said. "It is only a few yards."

They went out into the roadway. Then Beckett-Smythe was struck by an afterthought.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll run along to the vicarage and ask Herbert and his daughter to join us," he said.

Mrs. Saumarez bit her lip.

"I think I'll leave Angle at home," she said in a low tone. "The child is delicate. During the past week I have insisted that she goes to bed at eight every evening."

Colonel Grant understood why the lady did not want the two girls to meet, but it was borne in on him that she herself was determined not to miss that impromptu dinner party. In a vague way he wondered what her motive could be.

"Ah, that's a pity," he heard Beckett-Smythe say. "She can be well wrapped up, and the weather is mild."

He moved a little ahead of the two. Martin, determined not to be left alone with Angle, hastened to greet his friend, Fritz. The two chauffeurs were conversing in German. Apparently, they were examining the engine of the new car.

"Martin," murmured Angle, "don't bother about Fritz. He'll snap your head off. He's furious because he lost a map the other day."

But Martin pressed on. No longer could Angle deceive him--"twiddle him around her little finger," as she would put it.

"h.e.l.lo, Fritz!" he cried. "What map did you lose? Not the one I marked for you?"

Fritz turned. The new chauffeur closed the bonnet of the engine.

"No," he said, speaking slowly, and looking at Angle. "It was a small road map. You haf not seen it, I d.i.n.k."

"Was it made of linen, with a red cover?"

"Yez," and the man's face became curiously stern.

"Oh, I saw you studying it one day at The Elms, but you didn't have it on the moor."

Fritz's scowl changed to an expression of disappointment.

"I haf mislaid it," he grunted, and again his glance dwelt on Angle, who met his gaze with a bland indifference that seemed to gall him.

Colonel Grant drew near. He had been eyeing the two spick-and-span chauffeurs.

"Who is your friend, Martin?" he said. He was interested in everything the boy did and in everyone whom he knew.

"Oh, this is Fritz Bauer, Mrs. Saumarez's chauffeur.... Fritz, this is Colonel Grant, of the Indian Army."

Instantly the two young Germans straightened as though some mechanism had stiffened their spines and thrown back their heads. The newcomer's heels clicked and his right hand was raised in a salute. Fritz, better schooled than his comrade by longer residence in England, barely prevented his heels from clicking, and managed to convert the salute into a raising of his cap. There could be no doubt that he was fl.u.s.tered, because he said not a word, and the open-air tan of his cheeks a.s.sumed a deeper tint.

Apparently, Colonel Grant saw nothing of this, or, if he noticed the man's confusion, attributed it to nervousness.

"Two Mercedes cars in one small village!" he exclaimed laughingly. "You Germans are certainly conquering England by peaceful penetration."

Mrs. Saumarez elected, after all, not to visit the White House that afternoon, so Angle, having said good-by to the colonel and Martin in her prettiest manner, was whisked off in the car.

"By the way, Martin," said his father as the two walked to the farm.

"Mrs. Saumarez is German by birth. Have you ever heard anything about her family?"

Martin had a good memory.

"Yes, sir," he said. "She is a baroness--the Baroness Irma von Edelstein."

The colonel was surprised at this glib answer.