“Scientifically they are of the greatest value, commercially they are of no value. You have probably heard of dioxide of lead, the heaviest metal that the earth holds?” “I can’t say that I have, sir,” said the contractor frankly. “I am not much of a scientist.” “It is a very useful element,” lied Mr. Mulberry glibly, “in the creation of paper. It is highly inflammable but not explosive so long as it is handled by experts like my men here,” he waved his hand to the procession of swarthy labourers who were coming up the hill, each bearing a package on his shoulder. “They are Italians, aren’t they, sir?” Mr. Mulberry nodded. “They are the only people who can handle this chemical,” he explained. “I see, sir,” said the master carman wisely, “some of these foreigners are wonderful chaps with chemicals.” He looked down into the hollow. “Mighty nice young lady that, sir,” he said respectfully, not knowing whether Kate, who had just emerged from the building and was wandering aimlessly across the yard, was an employee or a friend. “Oh, yes, that is my confidential secretary,” said Mr. Mulberry. “Mighty nice, if I may be allowed to say so, very lady-like.” “Yes, yes,” said Mr. Mulberry. He lingered long enough to see the last packages laid on the floor of the last truck, shook hands with the contractor with great affability and strode nonchalantly down the slope and none to see him would have imagined that he had just entrusted nearly three million pounds’ worth of gold, to the tender mercies of a chance carman. He was half way down the first of the slopes when he met Kate coming up. “Kate,” he said in a low voice, “if you are going up to the top and that fellow asks you who you are, you must tell him you are my confidential secretary. I hope you don’t mind, I had to explain you.” She nodded and continued her slow walk until she came to the road. The cars were now buzzing preparatory to making a start. The contractor, whom she had met before, gave her a cheery nod. “Have you a piece of paper?” she asked. “I’ve a card, miss,” he said. “That will do,” she said; “lend me your pencil.” She wrote a few lines and handed them to the man. “I am the managing director’s confidential secretary,” she said. “I know, miss,” replied the man. He looked at the card with a frown. “You are to take the trucks first of all to this address and see the gentleman whose name I have written.” “But I was told to go straight to the docks.” She smiled and nodded. “I know,” she said, “but my chief thinks you had better go here. His lordship will either accompany you to their destination or he may store your chemicals for the night.” He looked at the address. “The Earl of Flanborough,” he read; “suppose he isn’t there, miss?” This was a contingency which she had overlooked. “Ask for Lady Moya Felton--that is his daughter,” she said; “you had best see her first in any circumstances.”