But who's the man--the planet ?" "Egyptian Claridge." "Ah, he is in England ?" "He will be here to-night; you shall see him." "Really! What is his origin ?" He told her briefly, adding: "I've watched the rise of Claridge Pasha.
I've watched his cause grow, and now I shall see the man--ah, but here comes our lass o' London!" The eyes of both brightened, and a whimsical pleasure came to the mask-like face of Lord Windlehurst.

There was an eager and delighted look in Hylda's face also as she quickly came to them, her cavaliers following.
The five years that had passed since that tragic night in Cairo had been more than kind to her.

She was lissome, radiant, and dignified, her face was alive with expression, and a delicate grace was in every movement.
The dark lashes seemed to have grown longer, the brown hair fuller, the smile softer and more alluring.
"She is an invaluable asset to the Government," Lord Windlehurst murmured as she came.

"No wonder the party helped the marriage on.
London conspired for it, her feet got tangled in the web--and he gave her no time to think.

Thinking had saved her till he came." By instinct Lord Windlehurst knew.