"Well--about Ashington, for instance."

"I suppose," he said, "the truth is, Belke, that you have laid your finger on another instance of people taking things for granted. I a.s.sumed you would realise these things. It was my own fault."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that the real reason was his love of mystery and his Secret Service habit of distrusting people, but I realised that Eileen had shown a little of the same evasiveness, and I would not have her think that my criticism was directed against her.

Presently Tiel suggested that it would be wiser if I retired to my room, and for a moment there was a sharp, though politely expressed difference of opinion between us. I argued very naturally that since the servant was in our pay there was no danger to be apprehended within the house, and that I was as safe in the parlour as anywhere. In his mystery-making, ultra-cautious way, he insisted that a visitor _might_ appear (he even suggested the police--though he had just previously said they had no suspicion!) and that he was going to run no risks.

Eileen said a word on his side--though with a very kind look at me--and I consented to go. And then he requested me to stay there for the rest of the evening! Again Eileen saved a strained situation, and I said farewell stiffly to him and very differently to her; in fact I made a point of accentuating the difference.

I reached my room, lit a cigar, and for a time paced the floor in a state of mind which I found hard to a.n.a.lyse. I can only say that my feelings were both mixed and strong, and that at last, to give me relief, I sat down to write my narrative, and by nine o'clock in the evening had brought it up nearly to this point.

By that time of course the curtains were drawn and my lamp was lit, and as it was a windy chilly night, my fire was blazing brightly. Higher and higher rose the wind till it began to make a very heavy and constant booming in the chimney, like distant salvoes of great guns.

Apart from the wind the old house was utterly quiet, and when the wooden stair suddenly creaked I dropped my pen and sat up very sharply.

More and more distinctly I heard a firm but light tread coming up and up, until at last it ceased on the landing. And then came a gentle tap upon my door.

VII.

AT NIGHT.

With a curious sense of excitement I crossed the room. I opened the door--and there stood Eileen. She had taken off her hat, and without it looked even more beautiful, for what hat could rival her ma.s.ses of dark hair so artfully arranged and yet with a rippling wave all through them that utterly defied restraint?

"May I come in for a little?" she said.

She asked in such a friendly smiling way, so modest and yet so unafraid, that even the greatest Don Juan could not have mistaken her honest intention.

"I shall be more than charmed to have your company," I said.

"I'm afraid we soon forget the conventionalities in our service," she said simply. "Tiel has gone out, and I was getting very tired of my own company."

"Imagine how tired I have got of mine!" I cried.

She gave a little understanding nod.

"It must be dreadfully dull for you," she agreed with great sincerity--and she added, as she seated herself in my wicker chair, "I have another excuse for calling on you, and that is, that the more clearly we all three understand what we are doing, the better. Don't you think so?"

"Decidedly! In fact I only wish we all thought the same."

She looked at me inquiringly, and yet as though she comprehended quite well.

"You mean----?"

"Well, to be quite frank, I mean Tiel. He is very clever, and he knows his work. Mein Gott, we can teach him nothing! And perhaps he trusts you implicitly and is quite candid. But he certainly tells me no more than he can help."

"He tells n.o.body more than he can help," she said. "You are no worse treated than any one else he works with. But it is a little annoying sometimes."

"For instance, do you know what he is doing to-night?" I asked.

There was no mistaking the criticism in the little shrug with which she replied--

"I half suspect he is walking about in the dark by himself just to make me think he is busy on some mysterious affair!"

"Do you actually mean that?" I exclaimed.

"No, no," she said hastily, "not really quite that! But he sometimes tempts one to say these things."

"Have you worked with him often before?"

"Enough to know his little peculiarities." She smiled suddenly. "Oh, he is a very wonderful man, is my dear brother!"

Again I was delighted (I confess it shamelessly!) to hear that unmistakable note of criticism.

"'Wonderful' may have several meanings," I suggested.

"It has in his case," she said frankly. "He really is extraordinarily clever."

She added nothing more, but the implication was very clear that the other meanings were not quite so flattering. I felt already that this strange little household was divided into two camps, and that Eileen and I were together in one.

"But we have talked enough about Herr Tiel!" she exclaimed in a different voice. "Because we really can get no further. It is like discussing what is inside a locked box! We can trust his judgment in this business; I think you will agree to that."

"Oh yes," I said, "I have seen enough to respect his abilities very thoroughly."

"Then," said she, "let us talk of something more amusing."

"Yourself," I said frankly, though perhaps a little too boldly, for she did not respond immediately. I felt that I had better proceed more diplomatically.

"I was wondering whether you were a pure German," I added.

"My feelings towards Germany are as strong as yours, Mr Belke," she answered. "Indeed I don't think any one can be more loyal to their country than I am, but I am not purely German by blood. My mother was Irish, hence my name--Eileen."

"Then that is your real name?" I cried, between surprise and delight.

"Yes, that is the one genuine thing about me," she smiled.

"But if you are half English----"

"Irish," she corrected.

"Ah!" I cried. "I see--of course! I was going to ask whether your sympathies were not at all divided. But Irish is very different. Then you hate the English with a double hatred?"

"With one or two exceptions--friends I have made--I abhor the whole race I am fighting against quite as much as you could possibly wish me to! Indeed, I wish it were fighting and not merely plotting!"

There was an earnestness and intensity in her voice and a kindling of her eye as she said this that thrilled and inspired me like a trumpet.

"We shall defeat them--never fear!" I cried. "We shall trample on the pride of England. It will be hard to do, but I have no doubt as to the result; have you?"

"None," she said, quietly but with absolute confidence.