"I found some sheets," he answered, "and I read them very carefully; they were connected with the various landing-places upon the Suffolk coast. An immense amount of detail was very clearly given. The currents, bays, and fortifications were all set out; even the roads and railways into the interior were dealt with. I compared them afterwards with a map of Suffolk. They were, so far as one could judge, correct. Of course this was only a page or two at random, but I must say it made an impression upon me." There was another silence, this time longer than before. Lady Deringham was thinking. Once more, then, the man had lied to her! He was on some secret business of his own. She shuddered slightly. She had no curiosity as to its nature. Only she remembered what many people had told her, that where he went disaster followed. A piece of coal fell into the grate hissing from the fire. He stooped to pick it up, and catching a glimpse of her face became instantly graver. He remembered that as yet he had heard nothing of what she had come to tell him. Her presence in the library was altogether unexplained. "You were very good," she said slowly; "you stayed what might have been a tragedy. You knew that I was there, you helped me to escape; yet you must have known that I was in league with the man who was trying to steal those papers." "There was no mistake, then! You were doing that. You!" "It is true," she answered. "It was I who let him in, who unlocked your father's desk. I was his accomplice!" "Who was the man?" She did not tell him at once. "He was once," she said, "my lover!" "Before----" "Before I met your father! We were never really engaged. But he loved me, and I thought I cared for him. I wrote him letters--the foolish letters of an impulsive girl. These he has kept. I treated him badly, I know that! But I too have suffered. It has been the desire of my life to have those letters. Last night he called here. Before my face he burnt all but one! That he kept. The price of his returning it to me was my help--last night." "For what purpose?" Wolfenden asked. "What use did he propose to make of the Admiral's papers if he succeeded in stealing them?" She shook her head mournfully. "I cannot tell. He answered me at first that he simply needed some statistics to complete a magazine article, and that Mr. C. himself had sent him here. If what you tell me of their importance is true, I have no doubt that he lied." "Why could he not go to the Admiral himself?" Lady Deringham's face was as pale as death, and she spoke with downcast head, her eyes fixed upon her clenched hands. "At Cairo," she said, "not long after my marriage, we all met. I was indiscreet, and your father was hot-headed and jealous. They quarrelled and fought, your father wounded him; he fired in the air. You understand now that he could not go direct to the Admiral." "I cannot understand," he admitted, "why you listened to his proposal."