"It was real," she whispered. "I _knew_ it was, somehow. That's why I came here to work--that's why I brought you here. Denis--I'm frightened. What does it all mean?" "Mean?" repeated Allen. "My darling, you're shaking like a leaf. What can it mean but--this?" They kissed.... Years later, it seemed, Isobel caught sight of Allen's wrist-watch, and came suddenly back to earth. "We must simply fly," she said. "Thank Heaven there was nobody on the road to see us. No, Denis, you mustn't. We must get back.... Oh, well, then...." They kissed once more, blissfully unconscious that a pair of youthful but malicious eyes had been drinking in every detail of the scene, or that when the car had proceeded on its way--hopelessly late for lunch--Bobby Myers scrambled out of the hedge and scurried hot-foot to entrust this precious information to the safe keeping of Mrs. Rudd. By teatime there was not a soul in the entire neighborhood who had not heard the news, with the exception of the isolated and deeply suspected inhabitants of Denmore Manor. CHAPTER XIII P.C. JOBLING INVESTIGATES "Humph," said Mrs. Rudd the post-mistress, "lot o' good the police force is, I don't think, ain't they?" The police force shuffled its feet and looked uncomfortable. "Well, now, auntie," it began mildly, "I don't see 'ow...." "None o' yer 'Well, now auntie' for me, please. Are you policeman in this 'ere village or are you not?--answer me that." "O' course I am." "Well then, 'ere's a lot o' 'eathen foreign nigger German spies gettin' ready to murder us all in our beds under our noses, an' 'ere you sit and do nothin'. I'm ashamed of you, Artie, I am. You go spendin' all yer time with yer nose in detective stories, an' dreamin' about the promotion you're goin' to get; an' now you get a real fine chance o' detectin' something an' runnin' a lot of shady foreigners in, an' all you do is twiddle yer great silly thumbs an' say, 'Well, now, auntie'!" "But 'ow _can_ I go to the 'ouse?" wailed the sole representative of law and order in Denmore miserably. "You can't take a man up 'cause 'e's a foreigner." "No, worse luck." Mrs. Rudd considered that in any properly-governed state a law to that effect would have been made long ago. "But you can take 'im up for 'oardin' food. It ain't for me to teach you yer own job, Artie Jobling; if I was policeman 'ere I'd pretty soon think out a way to get into that 'ouse an' 'ave a look round. 'Ow did the ones in them books o' yours do it?" "Disguised theirselves gen'rally," said Artie without enthusiasm, "an' went an' walked out with the maids." "Well, why don't you do that?" "I ain't no 'and at disguises," sighed Artie, gazing sadly at his regulation boots. "I sh'd 'ave all the kids in the village runnin' arter me." Mrs. Rudd followed the direction of her nephew's eyes, and forbore to press the point further.