Herrick, with a word to Aldwyth, who still seemed to be stunned by recent events, went out, and was shown into a small anteroom, to which the detective quickly followed him. “What is it?” he asked, wonderingly. “Well, it may be much and it may be nothing; I can’t explain now--but, look here, sir, that carriage out there is waiting for you and the lady, isn’t it?” “Yes; they’re Sir John Westwood’s horses.” “Do you mind if the Marquis goes off in that carriage instead of in the brougham that’s waiting for him?” “You must have some special reason for suggesting that!” “I have,”--emphatically. “I’ll ask Miss Westwood,--it’s not my carriage.” “One moment--need you ask? Ladies want explanations, and there isn’t time to give them.” “My good sir, you can hardly expect----” “Take it upon yourself, sir,” interrupted the police officer, impressively. “It may save life--a valuable life, too. I know what I’m talking about, and if any harm comes to Sir John’s horses, you may be pretty sure it is a case in which the Government will make the damage good.” “Very well; do what you think right. I see there is something serious in the wind.” “Right you are, sir”; and the detective was out of the room and the house before another word could be said. As Herrick crossed the hall to return to Aldwyth Westwood, the private secretary met him. “Ah, here you are! The ambassador’s gone. Now if you want three words with the marquis before he leaves, come this way. But where is Miss Westwood?” “Here,” said Herrick, opening the door. Aldwyth rose instantly, and the two followed the secretary to Lord Downland’s library. The Foreign Secretary stood upon the hearth-rug. A valet was helping him to put on his travelling coat. At a sign the man retired, and Langdale, after a low-toned word or two to his chief, placed a chair for Aldwyth and also left the room. It was obvious that his lordship was in great haste to get away. Herrick, without a word, put Marcus White’s written message in the minister’s hand. Lord Downland glanced at it rapidly, then read it carefully again. A shade of colour came into his pale, thin cheeks. He looked up. “This news was partly known to me,” he said, “but not quite all. The rest may be very valuable.” He glanced for a second at the fire, then added: “This leader of the Leaguers seems to have some love for England, or, at any rate, some scruples, after all. But he will have to pay a heavy penalty for his misdeeds.” “Lord Downland,” said Aldwyth quietly, “I think he has paid the last of all penalties already.” The Foreign Minister looked at her quickly, with grave inquiring eyes. “My lord,” said Herrick, “the Leaguers have turned on him. We left Marcus White at the mercy of the mob.” “Ah! is that so? A terrible experience for Miss Westwood. But I have intelligence that will relieve her of a great anxiety--Sir John Westwood is safe.” “Safe! thank God for that!” cried Aldwyth, with clasped hands.