"You are blind, boy, blind," the Admiral muttered. "Where was it I saw him last? There were sands--and a burning sun--his shot went wide, but I aimed low and I hit him. He carried himself bravely. He was an aristocrat, and he never forgot it. But why does he call himself Mr. C.? What has he to do with my work?" Wolfenden choked down a lump in his throat. He began to surmise what had happened. "Let us go into the other room, father," he said gently. "It is too cold for billiards." The Admiral held out his arm. He seemed suddenly weak and old. His eyes were dull and he was muttering to himself. Wolfenden led him gently from the room and upstairs to his own apartment. There he made an excuse for leaving him for a moment, and hurried down into the library. Mr. Blatherwick was writing there alone. "Blatherwick," Wolfenden exclaimed, "what has happened this morning? Who has been here?" Mr. Blatherwick blushed scarlet. "Miss Merton called, and a gentleman with her, from the Home Office, I b-b-believe." "Who let him into the library?" Wolfenden asked sternly. Mr. Blatherwick fingered his collar, as though he found it too tight for him, and appeared generally uncomfortable. "At Miss Merton's request, Lord Wolfenden," he said nervously, "I allowed him to come in. I understood that he had been sent for by her ladyship. I trust that I did not do wrong." "You are an ass, Blatherwick," Wolfenden exclaimed angrily. "You seem to enjoy lending yourself to be the tool of swindlers and thieves. My father has lost his reason entirely now, and it is your fault. You had better leave here at once! You are altogether too credulous for this world." Wolfenden strode away towards his mother's room, but a cry from upstairs directed his steps. Lady Deringham and he met outside his father's door, and entered the room together. They came face to face with the Admiral. "Out of my way!" he cried furiously. "Come with me, Wolf! We must follow him. I must have my papers back, or kill him! I have been dreaming. He told me that he was C. I gave him all he asked for! We must have them back. Merciful heavens! if he publishes them, we are ruined ... where did he come from?... They told me that he was dead.... Has he crawled back out of hell? I shot him once! He has never forgotten it! This is his vengeance! Oh, God!" He sank down into a chair. The perspiration stood out in great beads upon his white forehead. He was shaking from head to foot. Suddenly his head drooped in the act of further speech, the words died away upon his lips. He was unconscious. The Countess knelt by his side and Wolfenden stood over her. "Do you know anything of what has happened?" Wolfenden asked. "Very little," she whispered; "somehow, he--Mr. Sabin--got into the library, and the shock sent him--like this. Here is the doctor."