“My dear fellow, it is impossible,” he said. “I’d manage it for _you_ if it could be done for any one; you know that well enough.” Herrick did know it, for the speaker and he were first cousins, and good friends. “It’s of vital importance,” he said earnestly. “A matter of life and death,” urged Aldwyth. “Look here, Langdale”--Herrick laid his hand on the other’s arm--” we come from Marcus White.” “Marcus White!” The secretary drew back, amazed, and looked from Herrick’s face to Aldwyth’s. “You mean the head-centre of the Leaguers?” “Yes; but they’ve rounded on him.” “Only a few moments ago, when we left him, he was fighting for his life,” said Aldwyth. “It’s horrible, but it’s a fact,” added Herrick; “they were on him like a pack of wolves.” “That’s news, indeed!” Langdale looked very grave. “We have here something that he wrote for us to give into Lord Downland’s hands. It bears on the safety of Miss Westwood’s father, and perhaps on special foreign news which his lordship ought to know.” “I’ll see what can be done,” said Langdale briskly. “The French ambassador is with the marquis just at this moment; and, as you see, the brougham is at the door. There’s no harm in saying”--he lowered his voice slightly--” that the chief’s on the point of starting for Windsor, by the King’s command. But I’ll try to manage it for you.” And he quickly left the room. Over the window blind they could see the electric brougham, ready and waiting to start. Two or three uniformed policemen stood near at hand. Farther off, Herrick caught sight of his old acquaintance, Henshaw; and, at the same time, the rattle of accoutrements attracted his notice to a cavalry escort waiting at the north end of the square. Suddenly Henshaw moved quickly out of view. There was whispering among the uniformed men, who wore a watchful, anxious look. Something untoward was happening, and the barrister looked round intending to attract Aldwyth’s attention; but she was sitting at the table, her elbows resting there, and her face covered with her hands. He did not speak to her. Tact taught him that she was better left alone. He believed that in the complex trouble she was suffering she was no longer indifferent to his deep and constant affection; and it was true. Thus does the shaking of our lives sometimes restore the balance. A strong man’s love; a life-companion, tender, true, and kind! Happy the woman who can win the prize. Aldwyth, at least, was learning to be grateful; and gratitude, like pity, is akin to love. When Herrick glanced through the window again, Henshaw, usually most deliberate in his movements, was hurrying past; but his quick eyes had caught sight of the barrister, and the next moment he rang the bell. There was a hurried conversation with the hall porter; then a footman brought in a hasty note written on a leaf torn from a pocket-book: “_Can I see you for a moment? Urgent._”