His long, severe face had seldom seemed more malevolent.
"I had enough to make me bad-tempered," he declared.

"I had tracked down a German spy, step by step, until I had him there, waiting for arrest--expecting it, even--and then I got that wicked message." "What was that wicked message after all ?" she enquired.
"That doesn't matter," he answered.

"It was from a quarter where they ought to know better, and it ordered me to make no arrest.

I have sent to the War Office to-day a full report, and I am praying that they may change their minds." Philippa sighed.
"If you hadn't received that telegram last night," she observed, "it seems to me that I should have been a widow to-day." He frowned, and struck his boot heavily with his riding whip.
"Yes, I heard of that," he admitted.

"I dare say if he hadn't gone, though, some one else would." "Would you have gone if you had been there ?" she asked.
"If you had told me to," he replied, looking at her steadfastly.
Philippa felt a little shiver.