"Is it possible!" she said, after a moment's silence; "is this Mr. Stanhope!" The middle-aged gentleman smiled and came toward her. "It is I, Mrs. Warburton. An interview with you seemed to me quite necessary, and I considered this the safest disguise, and Mr. Follingsbee's company the surest protection." She bowed her head and looked inquiringly into his face. "Mrs. Warburton, are you still desirous to discover the identity of the person who has been a spy upon you?" he asked gravely. "I know--" she checked herself and turned a shade paler. "I mean I--" again she paused. What should she say to this man whose eyes seemed looking into her very soul? What did he know? "Let me speak for you, madam," he said, coming close to her side, his look and manner full of respect, his voice low and gentle. "You do not need my information; you have, yourself, discovered the man." Then, seeing the look of distress and indecision upon her face, he continued: "On the night of our first interview, I pledged my word to respect any secret of yours which I might discover. At the same time I warned you that such discovery was more than possible. If, in saying what it becomes my duty to say, I touch upon a subject offensive to you, or upon which you are sensitive, pardon me. Under other circumstances I might have said: Mrs. Warburton, it is your brother-in-law who has constituted himself your shadow. But the events that followed that masquerade have made what would have been a simple discovery, a most complicated affair. Can we be sure of no interruption while you listen?" She sank into a chair, with a weary sigh. "There will be no interruption. Miss French and my brother-in-law are watching in the sick-room; the servants are all at their posts. Be seated, Mr. Stanhope." He drew a chair near that which she occupied, and plunged at once into his unpleasant narrative, talking fast, and in low, guarded tones. Beginning with a description of the Raid as it was planned, he told how he had been detained at the masquerade--how he had discovered the presence of Vernet, and suspected his agency in the matter--how, without any thought other than to be present at the Raid, to note Vernet's generalship, and satisfy himself, if possible, as to the exact meaning of his unfriendly conduct, he, Stanhope, had assumed the disguise of "Silly Charlie", had encountered Vernet and been seized upon by that gentleman as a suitable guide,--and how, while convoying his false friend through the dark alleys, they were startled by a cry for help. As she listened, Leslie's face took on a look of terror, and she buried it in her hands. "I need not dwell upon what followed," concluded Stanhope. "Not knowing what was occurring, I managed to enter first at the door. I heard Alan Warburton bid you fly for your husband's sake. I saw your face as he forced you through the door, and then I contrived to throw Vernet off his feet before he, too, should catch a glimpse of you."