She rides through it, and enters a narrow carriage drive, closed in on both sides by tall pine-trees. Thick rhododendron bushes fill up a few open spaces here and there. The little road is steep and precipitous, leading sharply upwards. Léonie throws the reins on her horse’s neck and gives him his head. She has no fear that her four-footed friend will stumble. Horse and rider know each other well. Suddenly, however, she picks up the reins and urges him forward. A sudden thought has struck Léonie. She must not be caught napping. The time has come to employ her detective wiles, and she acts on the impulse that has seized her. Such a pace up such an incline is naturally trying to her steed. Thus, when rounding a sharp turn in the forest road she comes into full view of ‘The Hut,’ her animal’s sides are heaving pretty freely, and he is decidedly blowing. She brings him up to the little front entrance at the same pace, and reins him up abruptly. In another moment she has pealed the bell. She can hear a slight scuttling inside, and voices whispering, which causes a delay not at all in keeping with her plans, so she peals the bell again. Then steps come rapidly forward, and an elderly man in a dark green cord suit and brass buttons opens the door. “I have a message for the Duke of Ravensdale,” exclaims Léonie in a low, confidential voice. “You are Miles Gripper, are you not? Ask his Grace if I can see him. It is of the utmost importance, admitting of no delay.” Miles Gripper scratches his silver head and looks perplexed. He is a faithful servant and an honest one. His instructions have keen most specific. He has been told to feign absolute ignorance of the duke’s movements or whereabouts, though he knows them well. But Léonie’s words have staggered him. “Gracious!” he ejaculates. “But his Grace is not here, sir.” “Not here!” gasps Léonie, with well-feigned dismay. “Good God! what is to be done?” “Is his Grace in danger?” blurts out the forrester tremulously. “Oh, sir! what is it?” “Danger!” echoes Léonie. “I should just think so. Look here, my man, I have come post-haste from London to see him. He must be warned, or both he and Gloria de Lara will be in custody before the day is down. Can I trust you to take his Grace a message? I was told you were a faithful and trustworthy servant of his.” Miles Gripper is completely taken in. His honest heart bounds with loyalty at Léonie’s words. “Ah, sir! and that’s just true. His Grace has no one more devoted than old Miles Gripper. I’d give my life for his Grace, I would. But, God forgive me, how can I take your message, sir, in time? He’s far from here by now.” “What! far from here?” again gasps Léonie; “but not out of riding distance, surely? Tell me where he is, and, tired as my horse is, I’ll do all that is in human power to reach him. God grant I may not be too late!”