on the afternoon of the day following upon mangan’s momentous conversation with captain michealoff of the baltic embassy, the old lord of blackarden castle in the county of norfolk was sitting alone in his beautifully appointed study with its centuries-old oak panelled walls. he had a book in his hand, but his eyes were not upon its pages. instead, they were staring thoughtfully out of the window, with the general expression of his face a frowning and rather troubled one.

there was a knock upon the door and, in response to his curt ‘come in,’ barlow, the castle butler, entered the room and held out to him a letter upon a massive silver salver.

“a young lady has brought it, my lord,” he said deferentially. “she would not give her name and is waiting for an answer. i have shown her into the blue room.”

his master took the letter without comment and opened it. it was very short and soon read. “how has she come?” he asked sharply.

“in a taxi from norwich, my lord. she has a suitcase with her.”

“a suitcase!” exclaimed his lordship.

“yes, my lord, and she sent the taxi away.”

his lordship regarded the butler with a heavy frown. “what kind of young lady is she?” he asked.

“well dressed and well spoken. not of a common class, my lord.”

lord delamarne scowled and quite a long silence ensued before he ordered curtly, “show her in.”

alfred humbert delamarne, the eleventh baron of his line, looked all over what he had been for the greater part of his life — a soldier. his long military career had been a distinguished one. as a young lieutenant he had fought under lord methuen in the boer war and, after the disastrous defeat at magersfontein, been awarded the victoria cross for conspicuous gallantry. next, he had seen active service in afghanistan and, finally, had been all through the first world war. he had been wounded twice in france, the second time being left with a slight limp.

of medium height and physique, though now in his seventy-fifth year, he lacked nothing of a commanding presence, no doubt handed down to him by a long line of distinguished ancestors. his face was set and stern and his fierce old eyes looked out upon the world under heavy, bushy brows. living very much within himself and a stranger to everyone, even to members of his own family, he seldom smiled and then only in a cold sarcastic way.

altogether he looked a man with whom, despite his years, it would be unwise to attempt to play any tricks, and who would take command and exact obedience wherever he was. in not too good health, he was a great sufferer from neuritis and that at times made him intensely irritable and difficult to get on with.

the possessor of a large estate of many thousands of acres, the after-war taxation had naturally made great inroads into his income. still, for all that, with everyone of the opinion he must be drawing largely upon his capital, he lived in much the same spacious way his forebears had done, with the pomp and ceremony of the castle being little different from that of the generations before him. a just but hard master, he ruled his dependants and numerous employees with the proverbial rod of iron. he was a widower, with two daughters but no male heir and, upon his death, the barony would pass to a nephew, the son of an only brother, long since passed away.

with all the many people surrounding him, and yet living the solitary and lonely life he did, his sole source of happiness was apparently the collection of valuable art treasures, to which he was continually adding. what little was known outside the castle of his old silver was the envy of other connoisseurs.

such then was the man into whose presence now came tripping the pretty and lively miss penelope smith. of medium height, she had a good figure, very nice blue eyes, a perfect colouring, good profile, a determined little chin and a decidedly pretty mouth. her nose was slightly retrousee but that in no way lessened the general attractiveness of her appearance. she looked a charming and very confident young woman.

his lordship had risen to his feet upon her entrance and, apparently in no way awed by his grim appearance, she approached him smilingly and held out her hand. with just the slightest hesitation he took it limply and motioned her to a chair.

“i am pleased to meet you, lord delamarne,” she said in a cultured voice. “i saw your advertisement for a secretary in yesterday’s times and thought —” but on the instant his lordship glared angrily and he interrupted with great sterness, “but it expressly stated, did it not, that any applications for the position were to be made in writing to my agent, mr. henderson, and ——”

but miss smith now interrupted in her turn. “but i thought, my lord,” she said boldly, “that in my case that stipulation could be waived, as you were once a great friend of my parents and, before my mother died about six months ago, she told me a lot about you. she was a mrs. whitsun smith and her christian name was angelica.”

the expression upon his lordship’s face changed abruptly from one of anger to one of some surprise, and he regarded her very curiously.

“yes,” continued the girl, “my father was a great friend of yours and my mother said that many years ago he saved your life.”

so long a silence now followed that miss smith’s face flushed and she seemed all suddenly to have lost some of her confidence. evidently his lordship was not too pleased with what she had said, she thought, and he was going to deny all obligation to her dead father. however, she was mistaken there, as lord delamarne spoke at last.

“that is so, miss smith,” he said, “and i have never forgotten it. it was in a village in the punjab and he nursed me through an attack of bubonic plague. at a great risk to his own life he stayed with me when all the others had run away. he was a brave man and i had a great respect for him.” he frowned. “but he has been dead now for a good many years, hasn’t he?”

“fourteen,” nodded the girl. “i was only nine and remember very little about him. we ought to have been left well off as at the time of his death he was part owner of the majestic picture theatre in shaftesbury avenue, but my mother said we were cheated out of everything. we got nothing, but happily were able to live in comparative comfort because of an annuity father had bought her in his earlier days.”

his lordship raised his eyebrows. “and your mother died this year?” he asked after a few moments.

“yes, in january, from pneumonia, after only a week’s illness.”

“and have you any brothers and sisters?”

“no, none. i was the only child.”

“and what is your occupation?”

the girl smiled. “i am afraid i have been something of a rolling stone, trying several. to begin with, i started training to become a hospital nurse, but for the past six months i have been in the orchestra of the rialto as accompanist. i am a good pianist and can always earn my five or six guineas a week. for the moment i am on holiday.”

his lordship frowned. “but proficiency at the piano is hardly the right training for the secretarial work such as i require.”

the girl laughed. “oh, but i was a journalist for four years before that and am quite capable at office work. when i saw your advertisement in the times this morning and noticed the name it struck me at once that i would apply for the post.” she looked amused. “the main reason, i think, because i wanted to learn at first hand how you important people carry on in these hard times.’

“what do you mean?” demanded his lordship sharply, “by wanting to learn at first hand, as you put it?”

“by seeing for myself with my own eyes,” she replied. she shrugged her shoulders. “heaven knows, i’ve had plenty of opportunity of learning through other people’s, as i was for more than two years one of the social editresses of the old society world.” she laughed. “why, i’ve many times put in little paragraphs about your parties here. they were always good copy.”

“oh, they were, were they,” he frowned. “then may i ask who provided you with the information?”

“as often as not some of those who were going to be among your guests,” she replied. “naturally, they were proud to be invited and wanted their friends to know.”

“so they wrote to your journal themselves, did they?” commented his lordship. he scowled. “i’d very much like to know who they were?”

miss smith shook her head. “ah, but that i musn’t tell you. journals never give away the names of any of their correspondents through whom they get their news. servants in the big houses, too, often wrote to tell us what they thought was interesting and earned a little money that way, a few shillings, but if we considered the information worth it perhaps a postal order for a pound.”

“disgraceful,” commented his lordship, “your encouraging the tittle-tattle of the back stairs. and can you remember the names of any of the servants here who have approached you at any time?”

“i might if i tried,” she laughed, “but as i say, it wouldn’t be right for me to pass them on.”

“not if i made you a little present for doing so,” he went on sharply, “of, say, five or ten pounds?”

“certainly not,” she replied with her face flushing again. “i am always loyal to those who have trusted me and i wouldn’t sell my conscience for a paltry ten pounds.”

“not enough?” queried his lordship sarcastically. “then what about if i offered you more, say twenty pounds this time?”

she spoke very sharply. “please say no more about it, lord delamarne. i am not a girl who can be ever bought or sold.” she laughed. “i think too much of myself for that.” she went on quickly to stop any further persistence on his part. “i liked my work at the rialto much better. i found it so interesting to watch the society people who came in there to lunch and dine.” she spoke earnestly. “don’t you think now you could give me a trial? my mother said you and my father were such great friends. you went everywhere together.”

“that is so. we did,” agreed his lordship, and after a few moments pause he added with a grim smile. “you see, young lady, your father was my valet.”

“your valet!” exclaimed the girl, as if unable to believe her ears. “your servant, you mean?”

his lordship nodded. “yes, my body servant, and the best i ever had. i was very sorry to part with him, but in the end i had to because his habits had become such intemperate ones that as often as not he was in no condition to carry out his duties.”

miss smith was aghast. her face had lost a lot of its pretty colour and she looked as if she was going to cry. “b-u-t, but,” she stammered, “my mother told me he might be of noble birth. his real name was not smith. there was a mystery as to who his parents were.”

“quite so,” agreed his lordship. “he never knew them, as he was left one night upon the doorstep of the foundling hospital. it was on a whitsunday, and that is why they gave him the name of whitsun smith.”

for a few moments the girl could not speak in her emotion. she took out a dainty little lace handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “but — i tell you he was a wealthy man. he was the part-proprietor of that great picture palace.”

“he was the commissionaire there,” said his lordship with his grim smile again, “the man who stood at the entrance and whistled up the taxis. another thing — and i think it right you should be told — it was i who bought that annuity for your mother. when your father and i parted, i dared not trust him with a penny and so, instead, saw to it that his wife should never want.”

miss smith made no pretence that she was not humiliated and gave way to her tears. “then i am only an ordinary girl,” she choked, “and i came here thinking i might be the equal of anybody and ——”

“so you may be,” interrupted his lordship and now, his cynical manner for the moment disappearing, he spoke quite kindly. “your father may easily have been the offspring even of a duke or an earl. he was very handsome and certainly no common man.” he smiled. “you, too, are anything but ordinary. you look a well-bred as well at an attractive girl.”

miss smith smiled through her tears, and proceeded to dry her eyes. “thank you for your compliment, my lord,” she said. she rose to her feet. “i won’t trouble you any further.”

“no, no,” ordered his lordship sharply, “you just sit down again. i’m interested in you and if i don’t take you as my secretary, remembering your father’s service i may be able to help you in some other way. i like spirit in a woman and i see you’ve got plenty.” he regarded her with grim intent purpose. “but tell me what exactly was your idea in coming this long journey from london to see me today.”

she seemed surprised at the question. “in the expectation, of course, that probably being the first applicant for the post you would appoint me as the secretary.”

“not in the expectation, i am sure, miss smith,” he said dryly, “and hardly, i think, in the hope.”

“then what do you imagine i came for,” she asked, bridling up a little in annoyance at the stern way in which he was regarding her, “to steal some of your art treasures?”

“but you are a butterfly, miss smith,” he said, ignoring her question, “and secretarial work would be dull and uncongenial work for a girl such as you, accustomed to all kinds of excitement.”

she flared up instantly. “i am not a butterfly, my lord. i’ve had far too many hard knocks in my life to be anything as weak as that.” she looked amused. “if you must know — and i’ll be quite frank about it — i’m a hard-boiled, calculating adventuress and i had hoped to get the situation here to better my prospects in life. believing i might perhaps be of aristocratic birth myself”— her voice quavered —“until you woke me from my beautiful daydream there — i was thinking i should meet some nice people here and perhaps make a good match.” she spoke defiantly. “now you have the whole truth, and i’m not ashamed of it. i’m a very ordinary person, except for such few good looks as i happen to possess.”

his lordship’s grim face had broken into a dry smile. “but, as i have already said, you are anything but an ordinary person, miss smith. indeed, i should say that you are unusually intelligent. it was a brainy idea of yours, too, so to speak, to force yourself upon me by sending away your taxi so that i should have to offer you some hospitality.”

she was quite herself again and commented pertly, “and so now i suppose it’ll be a cup of tea in the housekeeper’s room and then you’ll very considerately have me driven back to the station, saying goodbye with the promise that you’ll think over what you can do for me and let me know.”

his lordship shook his head. “no, as you have reminded me, your father was my friend as well as my servant, and so i shall do more than that cup of tea and the lift back to the station.” he inclined his head with old-world courtesy. “i shall be very happy to have you here, as my guest, at any rate for a week or two.”

she shook her head in turn. “thank you kindly, my lord, but i think i’d rather not. it would be quite all right my meeting your family in the belief that i might perhaps be their social equal; but very different from my meeting them and their knowing that my father had been your servant.”

“tut, tut,” frowned his lordship, “but no one is going to tell them that. i shall say he was a friend of mine in india and once saved my life. no one is to know upon what footing our relations were. you can give out that he was in the indian civil service — a magistrate, you’d better say. it will be easy enough to deceive my younger daughter, joan, as unhappily she is not too intelligent, but with my other daughter, vera, you’ll have to be more careful, as she is sharp and has all her wits about her. however, she is away on a visit at the present moment. one other thing — mention only that you are a journalist. leave out that you work in the orchestra at that restaurant.”

“i’m sure it’s very kind of you,” began penelope hesitantly, “but i think ——”

“it’s not for you to think at all,” said his lordship sharply. “i give the orders here. then that’s settled. you’ll stay,” and with penelope sinking back into her chair again he touched a bell on his desk and, upon the butler reappearing, ordered, “tell miss joan i want her, please.”

there was silence in the room, with them both busy with their thoughts until the daughter appeared. a little younger than penelope, she certainly did not appear to be very clever. she had a round childlike face and big, innocent blue eyes. lord delamarne introduced them, describing penelope as the daughter of an old friend whom he had known many years back in india.

“and she is going to stay with us for a little while,” he explained. “so we must do our best to make her comfortable. you had better put her in the west wing.”

so penelope was led away by the smiling, friendly joan to the room in the west wing, which she was given to understand was generally reserved for relations of the family. her suitcase was brought up by a smartly-uniformed maid and she was left with the intimation that afternoon tea would be served in the lounge in a few moments.

left by herself again, penelope was inclined to give way to a little weep. “fancy mother deceiving me like that!” she choked. “what a fool it made me look to the old man! still, he was really very kind about it, and is evidently grateful for what father did for him.”

she took in the beautifully-appointed room and her spirits rose. here was every luxury she could think of — the rich carpet, the expensive-looking maplewood furniture, lights to be switched on wherever one wanted them, two big comfortable armchairs, the bed with its satin-covered eiderdown, and the charming little bathroom with all its shining accompaniments leading out of the heavily-curtained alcove.

she regarded herself critically in the big mirror round the dressing-table and felt even more comforted still. “yes, penelope, you’re certainly not bad looking, and who knows what may happen to you. you may perhaps after all meet some really eligible young man who may take a fancy to you. for one thing, i’m quite sure that the old lord will never give you away. instead, it might please his cynical humour to think some great and important family was taking into its bosom the daughter of his one-time valet. he’d get a lot of pleasure out of it.”

she made a grimace here. “and so my father was a valet, and i know my dear mother was a girl who once served in a shop! so probably she was only just an ordinary girl behind the counter there when father met her.” she sighed again. “anyhow, i’m sure she must have been pretty enough then for any man to have taken to her.”

she frowned. “but i must be very careful what i do here not to give myself away. thank goodness i know how the rich people behave at table and what they eat and drink, and shan’t be making any mistakes there. also, i shan’t be shy or awkward with anyone i meet. my journalistic work has been a splendid training for me.”

with all her self-assurance, however, her heart beat a little quicker when a few hours later she took her seat at the long table in the big dining-room for dinner. though there were only his lordship and joan beside her, they were waited on in solemn pomp by the butler and a footman in the delamarne livery. still, she soon brightened up under the thrill of her surroundings, the soft lights of the candles on the table, the sparkling glassware and the exquisite napery.

so well aware she was well groomed and accustomed, as she had comforted herself, to the table ways of the distinguished patrons of the rialto was soon completely at her ease, and lord delamarne, watching her covertly, wondered with some grim amusement what his other daughter, the honourable mrs. riverton, would say when she returned from her visit and found this very prepossessing young woman installed en famille at the castle.

apparently the meal was generally eaten in silence, and but for penelope things would probably have been the same now. however, after a glass of unaccustomed champagne, she livened up a lot and by her naive remarks on several occasions drew from his lordship an unaccustomed smile. discussing some of the many distinguished people she had seen coming into the rialto, though as her host had suggested she did not mention where she had encountered them, much of what she said was witty and amusing. indeed, though she was never to learn it, she was the cause of a lot of interest in the servants’ hall that night, with both the butler and the footman who had been the one to wait on them at dinner admitting to other members of the castle staff that they were unable to quite size up the new arrival.

“though she’s only a plain miss smith, cook,” remarked the butler as they were all partaking of their cold beef and pickles for supper, “she has evidently mixed with the very best people, and the way she described old lord morphett as the best punch she had seen out of a punch-and-judy show was too funny for words. then when she went on to say that that nasty old dowager lady caston always perked her old head round like an old rooster just about to give a good crow, even his lordship smiled! yes, i tell you she’s a lively young woman, as lively as they make them, and i wonder from where old del picked her up.”

the footman added his quota to the way the new secretary had enlivened the meal. “and, by cripes, cook, she almost made his lordship laugh outright once. she had said she once heard the archbishop of canterbury preach, and miss joan asked what his sermon had been about. ‘sin,’ she replied. ‘and what did he say about it?’ asked old del with that nasty sarcastic smile of his. miss smith was as solemn as an owl. ‘oh, he didn’t approve of it,’ she said, and i say the old boy almost laughed.”

the ensuing few days were very happy ones for penelope. she was thrilled with the comfort and luxury of everything and the beautiful surroundings both inside and outside the castle. of lord delamarne she saw practically nothing except at meal times and then he spoke little to her. she noticed, however, that he was often regarding her intently, for all the world, she thought, as if he were summing her up and unable yet to make up his mind about something.

with joan she had speedily become upon excellent terms and, being of a very simple disposition and apparently never able to keep anything to herself, the girl was soon confiding many private things to her. she said her father was very odd in many ways and except, when they had visitors, did not take notice of anyone. he loved to have the castle full of people, but it was really too much for him as he was failing in health, his blood pressure was unduly high, and from time to time he suffered so much from attacks of neuritis in one of his knees that then he could hardly drag himself along.

“poor old man,” exclaimed penelope in real sympathy, “he hasn’t much to live for at seventy-five, has he?”

“oh yes, he has,” retorted joan at once. “he’s wrapped up in his art treasures, particularly the old silver he’s been collecting for many years. no one but himself knows how much of it he’s got hidden below in the vaults. he’s had a room fitted up there with electric lights and a radiator, and some days he spends hours and hours there, we think, gloating over his treasures.”

“and that’s all his happiness in life!” exclaimed penelope.

“but it isn’t all happiness by any means,” said joan, “as he’s always living in fear of being robbed.” she lowered her voice darkly. “and would you believe it, penelope, neither my sister nor i, or anyone else in the castle, has ever been allowed to go down below. even exactly where the door leading on to the stairway is has been a secret from us. all we know is that it’s somewhere in his study.”

penelope looked incredulous. “but surely the servants who do the room must know?”

joan laughed. “no, they don’t. only anna, she’s the head housemaid and has been here nearly thirty years, and we two girls are allowed there. we do all the dusting and sweeping and the door is always kept shut. father locks it at night or whenever he goes out of the castle. as he’s grown old he’s got worse and worse, until secrecy is a perfect mania with him.”

“but doesn’t everyone think it’s strange?” asked penelope.

“outsiders do,” said joan, “and no wonder stories got about of tremendous treasures being hidden down below. of course, all of us here are accustomed to it and never take any notice, just looking upon it all as another of father’s eccentricities.” she looked troubled. “you know, we live in lots of secrets and mysteries here. about three months ago one of the footmen disappeared, and no one has any idea what happened to him. one night he just went up to his bedroom as usual and in the morning couldn’t be found anywhere. he had not slept in his bed and he had left all his things behind him. he had just vanished as if he had been spirited away.”

“what an extraordinary thing,” exclaimed penelope. “but didn’t his people come enquiring after him?”

joan shook her head. “apparently he hadn’t any, as no one came asking for him. he had been with us only a few weeks and we knew practically nothing about him. father was very glum about it and, though he never mentioned it to us, we believe the references the man had brought with him when he was engaged were forged ones. so we know father must think his getting taken on here was part of a plan to rob him and he’s been more nervy since.”

“but what did the police do?” asked penelope.

“nothing! of course, they were told about it, but there the matter ended. the only explanation anyone can think of is that he must have slipped out of the castle that night to have a swim in the sea — the sea is only about two miles from here — and got drowned. still, his body was never found.”

then she went on to tell penelope, without any reserve, of a secret love affair she was having with a young fellow whose father kept a provision shop in norwich. it was the shop at which the castle dealt and that was how she had come to know him.

“he’s such a dear boy,” she said, “but father would be furious if he knew. sometimes i meet him at night in the grounds, as it’s the only place where we can talk to each other.”

“but what about your cousin, young mr. chester avon, who’ll be the next lord delamarne?” asked penelope. “i should have thought it would have been a good thing for the barony if you had married him.”

“father did think of it once,” she said, “but then decided it would never do. he is very disappointed in chester and says he couldn’t have two such weak characters as him and me to carry on the line.” she laughed shyly. “you see, chester is something like me in disposition. he lets people make up his mind for him and gives in to them much too easily. father says he’s got no more backbone in him than a piece of jelly.”

penelope was very amused. “but if your father had decided you two should be married, would you both have agreed to it?”

joan shrugged her shoulders. “i suppose we should have had to, as father always seems to get his own way.” she spoke warmly. “but don’t you start imagining my cousin is anything of a fool. he certainly is not, and it’s only because he depends so much upon father that he always seems frightened of him. you see, he has only got his pay as a lieutenant in the regular army, and father allows him ￡300 a year. besides, though the blackarden estate is entailed, father has so much to leave besides that it would make a lot of difference to chester if he kept him out of it all.”

“is he engaged?” asked penelope.

joan laughed. “no, and he wouldn’t dare to be unless father had approved of the girl first. it seems rather humiliating, doesn’t it? but then chester is very good tempered and takes it all in a good-humoured way.” she continued, “he has a great friend, too, in a major mangan, whom he says laughingly won’t let him get too friendly with any of the girls who are setting their caps at him, and goodness only knows how many of them there are.”

“i’d like to meet him,” smiled penelope. “i might set my cap at him, too.”

“but he’ll be difficult to catch,” smiled back joan, “as he’s always rather shy with strange girls. however, you’ll soon get the opportunity to see what you can do, as he’s coming down this week-end. his regiment is stationed at aldershot, but for the time being he’s doing some temporary work at the war office in town and manages to get plenty of leave.”

penelope duly absorbed all this information about young avon and wondered if he would do for her, or, rather, she for him. evidently it was going to be lord delamarne who would decide whom the boy should marry and it struck her again there was no knowing what the old lord’s cynical ideas of life generally might suggest to him. it might appeal to his cynical outlook on life generally to marry his one-time valet’s daughter to the heir of the great delamarne line.

upon the fourth day following on her arrival at the castle and when joan was busy on household duties, lord delamarne came out to penelope, who was sitting alone on the terrace, and asked her to come into his study as he wanted to have a talk with her.

penelope’s knees shook under her. so he had made up his mind as to whether or not he would engage her! it looked hopeful, as his manner was quite pleasant. reaching the study and closing the door behind her, he motioned to a chair before the big desk and seated himself opposite her.

“by the bye,” he began with a frown, “of course joan has told you she has been meeting that young fellow in the grounds here at night?”

most embarrassed at the question, penelope put on a blank look and asked innocently, “which young fellow? what do you mean, my lord?”

“oh, don’t be evasive,” he said testily. “of course you know all about it, as unhappily joan is one of those foolish girls who can never keep any secrets to herself. i mean the boy from the provision shop in norwich,” and, waiting for no comment from penelope, he went on grimly, “but i suppose that is another of your loyalties; all right in its way but not necessary in this case as i have learnt about everything. well, you tell her from me that it must stop. if it doesn’t, say i shall withdraw my custom from his father without any explanation and that will cause no little unpleasantness as well as pecuniary loss to him. i am not telling her myself because i don’t want to get into a temper. it’s not good for my health. you understand?”

penelope nodded and he said frowningly, “well, i have made up my mind to engage you and your salary will be six guineas a week.” he spoke with an effort. “i realise that is more than just the ordinary secretary i need now. i require someone whom i can trust implicitly and to whom i can confide very private matters with no fear of their being passed on to anybody.” he spoke sharply. “i think you are the right one there.”

“thank you so much for your good opinion of me, my lord,” said penelope warmly. “you won’t be disappointed in me, i promise you.”

“i don’t think i shall,” he said and he smiled his cold grim smile, “because i happen to know your pedigree. your father was a man who, except for his one failing, would be as they put it, faithful unto death, and for your mother i had always the greatest respect in that way, too.”

he frowned again. “of course, joan has told you about what people call my eccentricities — that i have secrets to hide and spend a lot of time in the underground parts of this castle. also that i have kept from everyone the way down to them from this room. all this is quite true, but i have a perfect right, if i choose, to keep my private affairs to myself. they are nobody else’s business.” he looked troubled. “my anxiety now is that on one of these expeditions below, in my present ill health i may be suddenly taken ill, with no one being able to help me, and that is where i expect you to come in.” he rose to his feet. “now take good notice of what i am going to show you.”

he pulled open a bottom drawer on one side of his desk and, lifting out some papers, showed her a small catch on the back. “now this desk is clamped to the floor and when i pull that catch back it releases a spring behind that oak panel in the wall. please take good notice that the panel is the seventh one from where the shelves of books begin. now you go over and slide that panel back. press hard first and then it will slip back behind panel number eight.”

thrilled in intense interest, penelope did as she had been told and a door, covered over with thick felt, was exposed to view. lord delamarne explained that the felt had been placed there so that any tapping upon the wall should not give out any hollow sound. the door opened into a little narrow chamber about six feet in length, at the end of which there was another door. his lordship flashed a big electric torch.

“this chamber and the second door,” he explained, “was arranged so that no draught should come up from below.”

the second door opened and he flashed his torch upon a flight of narrow steps leading down to inky blackness below. “seventy-two of them,” he said, “but they’re not steep and quite safe. follow me.”

the stairway seemed almost endless to penelope, but at last they reached the bottom, and reaching up his arm lord delamarne switched on a light and penelope gave a long “o-o-h!” as she saw a long and wide corridor, paved with huge stone flags, stretching before her until it reached the darkness in the distance. on either side were a number of gaping doorways with their massive wooden doors lying prone upon the ground.

“are those the vaults in there?” she asked breathlessly, and though she spoke hardly above a whisper her voice echoed along the corridor.

“no, those are the dungeons,” he replied. “in the course of the centuries the doors have fallen down because the ironwork of the hinges and fastenings have rotted away. the vaults are farther on.”

“but how is it the air is so clear?” asked penelope. “it’s not a bit close or musty as i thought it would have been.”

“that’s because it’s always circulating,” he said. “it’s drawn in through a deep well among the vaults and from openings high up in the chimneys in the castle above.”

he led penelope up the long corridor to a small dungeon round the corner at the far end of the corridor and, opening a small door, showed her a little chamber that had been fitted up to house the most valuable of his silver collection. there were glass cabinets all round the walls, a big comfortable armchair, a couch and a good-sized radiator.

“and this is where you’ll find me,” he said with a sad smile, “if ever i’m missing for too long. you shall have a duplicate key to the library door to get in whenever you want to.” he eyed her intently. “you won’t be afraid to come, will you?”

“of course not,” she replied. she laughed. “though i expect there are plenty of ghosts gliding about down here.”

“there should be if such things as ghosts exist,” he said casually, “as in the cruel and torturing days of the dark ages many a poor wretch drew in his last breath here. some of the lords of blackarden of those times had not too good a reputation for kindness.”

after giving penelope a quick look round down some of the many passages leading out of the main corridor, lord delamarne led her up into his study again and made her manipulate the sliding panel many times to make certain she understood how to work it properly. “but do you really think, lord delamarne,” she asked hesitatingly, “that all these precautions are necessary?”

“i certainly do,” he answered solemnly. “there are many articles of great value below and i have good reason to believe that of late i have been watched. i am not an easily frightened man, miss smith, but i think it wise now to carry an automatic pistol always about with me,” and he took one from his hip pocket and showed it to her. then seeing the troubled expression on her face he added, “so you see in what a position of trust i am placing you.”

“but i’m not really at all frightened,” she said. “it’s an adventure”— she laughed —“and didn’t i tell you i was adventurous?”

“good,” he commented, “and i am certain i can depend upon you.” he smiled quite pleasantly. “i admit it’s something of a relief to me to realise that i have someone near me who can help if i need help.”

penelope was glad her position in the castle had been settled before the other daughter, vera, the honourable mrs. riverton, returned home. the latter had been married only a few months to a well-to-do landowner whose hobby was the breeding of stud cattle. their house was about five miles from the castle, but penelope had been given to understand that she would see plenty of both of them.

from the very first vera was prepared to be quite friendly, but she was naturally very curious about her father having taken a girl for his secretary and put a lot of rather searching questions to penelope. still, the latter was every bit as shrewd as she was and, with all her answers ready for any questions that might be put, was sure she did not let slip anything she should not have done.

penelope’s next excitement was the arrival for a few days’ stay of the heir to the barony. she liked him at once, and thought him a bright and happy young fellow whose great fault was that he was inclined to take life much too easily. he took a good eyeful of her when they were introduced and remarked smilingly that it was quite nice to see a new face at the castle and such a pretty one, too.

“now you stop that, chester,” said joan in mock reproach. “miss smith is quite a staid and proper young person and allows only father to pay her compliments like that. isn’t that so, penelope?”

“of course it is,” laughed penelope. “as i’ve told you, i’m a bit of a man-hater and have no time for any of them until they’re well over forty.”

“oh, you want to be an old man’s darling, do you, miss smith?” asked young avon. he pretended to look pleased. “well, with all my worries i’m ageing quickly and so shall soon be eligible,” and he gave penelope a wink which he intended should be a very knowing one.

but if chester avon were talkative and merry when alone with the two girls, he was very different when in the presence of his uncle, subsiding then into a very quiet and subdued young man. it was evident he stood in considerable awe of the lord of the castle, and the latter did not make things any better by continually frowning at him.

“now you are here,” said lord delamarne to him at lunch, “you may as well try to do something useful for once. you’re to give miss smith a lesson or two in driving my car,” and he gave the order in such a stern, cold way that it might have been thought he was imposing some unpleasant duty upon his nephew.

penelope herself was delighted with the idea, as always of a hopeful and sanguine disposition, her daydreams had strengthened that there were great possibilities of conquest in young avon if only she was tactful and played her cards carefully.

actually brought now in contact with him, following upon all joan had told her she was confident she had summed him up pretty accurately. a flirt in a timid and very cautious way, he could never have had a real sweetheart, let alone have been the lover of any girl! he was all virgin ground, just waiting for some enterprising and tactful young female to implant the deeper feelings in him!

however, with any conquest in contemplation, she knew quite well that he was not the only one to be considered and that there would be no chance of ultimate success except with the approval of lord delamarne himself. with the old lord’s strong and masterful disposition, she was sure whom the heir would take for his wife would be decided by him, rather than by young avon, who would most certainly do as he was told there.

still, she was not without hope that eventually his lordship might come to approve of her as being quite suitable to be his nephew’s wife. already the old man had honoured her with a confidence he had certainly given to no one else, and it might be that in time she would become so indispensable to him that any liking chester took for her would be pleasing, rather than otherwise, to him.

anyhow, the first thing was to make the boy himself become attached to her and, with him now showing an obvious willingness to open a flirtation with her, she decided to give him plenty of encouragement. however, at the same time she would take good care to pretend to him that it was going to be a flirtation and nothing more. she would appear to be so frank and open about that that he would not think he need put up any defence against her or have to be in any way upon his guard.

then — she thought her chance would come, as she would try to make the flirtation so delightful to him that, quite unknowingly in the end he would have plunged so deep that he would have no wish to draw back.

she sighed here when she summed it all up. but what a little fool she was! what chance had she, a mere employee in the castle, when almost certainly everyone there would be against her? the boy himself might indeed become fond of her without realising that all the time she had been purposely leading him on, but onlookers would have noticed it at once, and wouldn’t vera, for one, have started warning him against her. vera was always very much inclined to be a jealous little cat.

penelope was smiling again now. well, if nothing came of her scheming at least she would see that she got some fun out of it. after all, she had all to gain and nothing to lose. it would be like acting a part in a play.

then if indeed her manoeuvres were intended to be something of the nature of a play she certainly acted very well in it. the boy was allowed plenty of squeezes of her hand and got unmistakeable squeezes back in return. when, too, they were in the company of others, many sly and almost verging on ardent glances passed between them, laughing and yet provocative on her part and on his showing the undoubted pleasure he was feeling at the little intimacies which, unknown to everybody else, were making everything so interesting for both of them.

however, when upon the conclusion of the last driving lesson he suggested a kiss as a reward for his services, she declined with a pretty shake of her head.

“not quite so soon, boy!” she exclaimed reproachfully. “why, i’ve known you for such a little time.”

“just one,” he pleaded, “a very quick one.”

“no, no,” she whispered, “you can’t have one now. don’t you see vera has got her eyes upon us and keeps looking this way. so wait for a better time.”

“all right,” he said. “but you promise, don’t you?”

“yes, i’ll keep one for you,” she laughed. she flashed him one of her provocative glances. “don’t you think a kiss can be made so nice that it’s a pity to take it too hurriedly?” and young avon thought the denial of the kiss had been made so sweetly that it perhaps might have been almost as good as the kiss itself.

on the afternoon of the day upon which avon had gone back to town, lord delamarne remarked casually to penelope when they were together in the study, “and pray what do you think of this precious nephew of mine, miss smith?”

“he’s a very nice boy,” replied penelope in an equally casual tone, “but he’s only a boy and hasn’t half grown up yet.”

“well, he’s taking a long while about it,” grunted his lordship, “and i don’t think he’ll ever be a proper man. he’s a young fool and can’t say boo to a goose.”

“but he’s anything but a fool,” returned penelope instantly, “and if he doesn’t talk much in front of you it’s only because you frighten him so. you are frowning at him all the time.”

“but he’s no enterprise,” said his lordship. “he never shows the least bit of go like other young fellows of his age.”

“oh, doesn’t he?” commented penelope with a laugh. “well, he squeezed my hand hard enough when we were first being introduced and didn’t seem at all backward then.”

rather to everyone’s surprise, the boy appeared at the castle again on the following saturday. he explained that his chief was away and thought, as he had nothing in particular to do, he might just as well come down and give penelope another driving lesson or two.

penelope was really delighted about it. at any rate, she told herself, she was not losing ground. she was the more heartened there because she was sure she could sense some different attitude of the boy towards her this time. he was quieter, even a little shy, and if he talked less to her she thought he nevertheless looked at her a good deal more.

“good,” she told herself with a little thrill, “he’s interested in me now in a different sort of way to what he was on our first meeting. he’s more respectful and nothing like as bold as he was last time.”

she was very nice to him and even ventured to give him some advice. “talk more to your uncle,” she said, “and let him see you’ve got a mind of your own. bring up the baltic question to him and say they all seem only half-civilised to you. that’ll please him a lot, as no one could hate them more than he does.”

so to lord delamarne’s astonishment that night at dinner avon brought up world affairs and, in the short conversation that ensued, listened most deferentially to his uncle’s views.

“you did splendidly, mr. avon,” said penelope afterwards. “now before you come down next time read up some political news and ask for your uncle’s opinion again. make him realise that you’re interested in other things besides sport. he’s got a silly idea that you are never interested in serious matters.”

on the monday morning, in bidding the boy good-bye when they were in the conservatory together, she thanked him gratefully for the driving lessons he had given her. he coloured up and for a few moments they stood looking at each other without speaking.

“you’re a nice boy,” said penelope gently and then, in the most natural way possible, she lifted up her face and gave him a quick kiss.

“whew, that was nice,” he said a little hoarsely. “i’d like a few more, please,” but she put a finger on her lips and led the way smilingly out of the conservatory.

that night lord delamarne brought up his nephew again to penelope. “had a good time with him?” he asked grimly.

“yes, he’s been very nice,” she nodded.

“did you attempt any flirtation with him?” asked his lordship, looking at her very hard.

“i didn’t get much chance there,” laughed penelope. “vera saw to that. she left us alone together as little as possible.”

“but i suppose,” went on his lordship dryly, “as the adventuress you have told me you are, you’ve already got your eyes on him as a possible husband?”

she shook her head smilingly. “hardly,” she said, “as i’m years too old for him. when he marries it ought to be to a girl several years younger than he, otherwise he’ll never stick to her. now if i were his wife, in six months he’d be running round after someone else. i know his kind.” she laughed merrily. “besides, he’ll never want to marry me, as he knows i’d order him about too much.” she shook her head agin. “no, lord delamarne, you needn’t ever think i’ll set my cap there. i tell you i’m not in the running,” and his lordship dropped the subject.

now if lord delamarne were worried at the thought that unknown enemies might be closing in upon him — his anxiety was as nothing to that larose should now be experiencing, for no one could have realised better than he did that he had just been in most deadly peril and, in all probability might soon be facing that same peril again.

the previous evening he had been shot at twice by someone firing at him with a rifle.

he had returned home to the abbey when it was beginning to get dark and, having put his car in the garage, was just in the very act of letting himself into the house in the full glare of the hall lights shining through the open doorway when he heard the whine of two bullets passing in quick succession close beside him. from his life’s training always on the alert, his mind instantly registered an attempt to kill him and even as the reports of a rifle reached him he was hurling himself precipitately down into the hall.

kicking the door to behind him, he sprang to his feet, pale and with little beads of sweat beginning to burst upon his forehead. upon the opposite wall he saw where the two bullets had crashed in, with the holes being only a few inches from each other.

“good shots!” he exclaimed hoarsely. “he was probably firing from that hill.”

darting like lightning over to the phone, not to his great surprise he found the line was dead. however, arguing that whether or not the would-be assassin would be thinking his bullets had hit their mark, he would now be speeding away from the neighbourhood as quickly as possible, he judged it quite safe to go outside again. so with all haste, taking out his car once more, he proceeded at once to a neighbouring house and within a very few minutes was on the phone and telling the norwich superintendent of police what had happened.

“all right, mr. larose,” said the superintendent, who had instantly taken in the situation, “i’ll have an immediate sos sent out all round. we’ll block every road so that he can’t get away.”

“and look out for a returned soldier,” warned larose. “he must have been firing from the direction of the sea, due east and probably from the plantation on dunton hill, as from there he could look down straight into our drive and the front of the house. from the time of the report of the rifle followed upon the striking of the bullets, i reckon he must have been a good eight hundred yards away.”

having done all that in the circumstances he thought he could have done, he returned home, most thankful that it happened while his family were away. the elder boys were at boarding school and his wife with the younger children on a visit to town.

“so that’s that,” he told himself with a wry smile. “our good friend, major mangan, of course! he’s a quick mover and has lost little time.” he shook his head. “so i shall never be safe now until he’s finished with.” his face hardened. “i may have to kill him myself.”

as can well be imagined, it was some time before he dropped off to sleep that night, and then when it was almost one o’clock in the morning he was awakened from his uneasy-slumber by the sounds of a car pulling up outside, and answering the door himself he found it was the superintendent of police from norwich.

“you can rest easy, mr. larose,” said the superintendent smilingly, “as we’re practically certain we’ve got the man.”

“you’ve got him, you say?” exclaimed larose delightedly. “splendid! has he admitted anything?”

the superintendent shook his head solemnly. “he can’t. he’s dead. he was on a motor-bicycle, and attempting to get away from one of the king’s lynn patrol, ran head-on into a wall and was killed instantly from a broken neck.”

larose looked disappointed. “then all you have against him is that he was trying to avoid the patrol? had he got any rifle on the machine?”

“no, no rifle,” said the superintendent. “we shall probably find that hidden in that wood.” he nodded grimly. “but in one of his pockets we found three cartridges of the kind used in the new service rifle, the park–riley. we shan’t have the slightest difficulty of finding out all about him as he was carrying a driving licence made out for a eric rupert haines, of an address in hammersmith. evidently he had no expectation he would be bailed up.”

larose looked more satisfied. “he must have been picked up very quickly,” he commented.

the superintendent smiled. “barely twenty minutes after i received your call. if he was quick — we were even quicker. the king’s lynn police — i have just come from them — had got the cordon working in their district in under a quarter of an hour. if you are right about his firing at you from that plantation on dunton hill, then in the following five and twenty minutes he covered nearly twenty-six miles. undoubtedly he was reckoning that his speed would enable him to slip up north, or perhaps into some big town in the midlands before the hue and cry had even been started in this county. i guess he was banking on that cut telephone wire.”

“well, you’ve done splendid, superintendent,” said larose warmly, he made a grimace, “that is, if you’ve got the right man.”

“oh, i think we can be pretty certain of that,” said the superintendent. “his refusing to stop was damnably suspicious. the king’s lynn chaps heard his motor-bike coming when it was miles away and, knowing he would have to pass them, pulled up their car at once and sent one of their uniformed men ahead to give him plenty of warning to stop before he drew level with them. he slowed down and it looked as if he were going to do so, but then, when he was nearly up to the patrol car, which was stationed bang in the middle of the road, he accelerated in a flash and swerved sharply to slip by. he would have got by, too, if his machine hadn’t skidded and crashed into that wall.”

“what kind of man was he?” asked larose.

“not a common one by any means; about thirty, i should say. his hands were well kept and not accustomed to manual work. under his overalls all his clothing was of good quality. his wrist watch was anything but a cheap one and in his pockets, among other things, were a wallet with twelve pounds in treasury notes and a silver cigarette case with the engraved initials e.r.h. as i have said, it is evident he had no expectation of being caught. we’ll know all about him tomorrow.”

some thirty-six hours later inspector stone was telling larose the rest of the story. “mangan’s work again,” he said gloomily, “but as before not a shred of evidence against him. this eric rupert haines was in the commando raid on dieppe and we know mangan was there, too, so it’s no stretch of the imagination that they were acquainted with each other. one thing, it may be a small one but nevertheless it’s significant, the egyptian cigarettes that we noted when we raided mangan’s flat and those in this shooter’s case were both of the same expensive brand. how’s that for a bit of circumstantial evidence that they know each other?”

“pretty good, charlie,” nodded larose, “but unhappily we can’t bring mangan in on that. still, i am in absolute agreement with you that he put this man on me to get his revenge.”

“still, my boy,” smiled the inspector, “you’ll have a bit of a breather now before mangan can dig up another assassin. the exact ones he wants are surely not easy to be found.” a thought struck him and he asked sharply, “now of course you know that lord delamarne who lives not far from you?”

larose nodded. “yes, i know him,” he said, “very slightly, however. we meet occasionally on the bench. but why do you ask?”

stone spoke impressively. “because in the course of our enquiries about this blackguard, mangan, we’ve learnt that he’s on most friendly terms with young lieutenant avon, his lordship’s nephew and the heir to the blackarden estate.”

“oh, oh,” exclaimed larose, “that doesn’t sound too good. i should say a fellow such as mangan makes friends with no one unless he’s going to get something out of him.”

“what i think,” agreed stone, “is that old delamarne ought to be warned. mangan and this boy are pretty thick together, with young avon often taking him visiting down to blackarden casde. do you know the old lord well enough to have a confidential talk with him?”

“no, i don’t,” replied larose at once. “delamarne is at all times a proud and reserved old chap and has very fine friends. i fancy he remembers i was a policeman once and consequently his manner towards me is always cold and distant.”

“then you don’t like to bring up mangan to him?” asked stone.

larose considered. “i’m not particularly keen, charlie,” and then he added sharply, “but i’ll have to do it. there’s total war now between mangan and me and i’m not going to be squeamish.”

“but don’t you forget you’ll be treading on very delicate ground,” warned the inspector, “for remember there’s a law of libel, my boy, and if mangan should go for you for slander”— he shrugged his shoulders —“well, as you know, there isn’t a single definite thing against him.”

“i’m not forgotting that,” said larose, “but i’m certainly not going to let that blackguard get off scot free. i’ll have to think over what i can do.”

so back home that same evening larose sat down and penned a letter to the great lord of blackarden castle.

“dear lord delamarne,” he began, “i would like to have a chat with you on a private and very important matter. will you kindly arrange a place of meeting somewhere, any day and time you like. it would be better if i did not come to you or you to me, for no one must learn i have approached you. if you write me, put the letter in the post office yourself, and if you phone me here don’t mention my name, but asked for a mr. hill. i have no hesitation in writing to you like this, for as i say the matter is a most important one both to you and me, and when you have heard what i have to say i am sure you will agree with me there.

yours truly,

gilbert larose.”

lord delamarne received the letter the next morning and read it through several times. then for a long while he sat frowning heavily.

finally he went into the phone cabinet himself and, getting in touch with “mr. hill,” arranged to meet him the following day at noon at the county club in norwich.