"Admiral Deringham," the girl repeated, thoughtfully; "the name sounds familiar." Mr. Sabin nodded. "Very likely," he said. "He was in command of the Channel Squadron at the time of the _Magnificent_ disaster. He was barely half a mile away and saw the whole thing. He came in, too, rightly or wrongly, for a share of the blame." "Didn't he go mad, or something?" the girl asked. "He had a fit," Mr. Sabin said calmly, "and left the service almost directly afterwards. He is living in strict seclusion in Norfolk, I believe. I should not like to say that he is mad. As a matter of fact, I do not believe that he is." She looked at him curiously. There was a note of reserve in his tone. "You are interested in him, are you not?" she asked. "In a measure," he admitted. "He is supposed, mad or not, to be the greatest living authority on the coast defences of England and the state of her battleships. They shelved him at the Admiralty, but he wrote some vigorous letters to the papers and there are people pretty high up who believe in him. Others, of course, think that he is a crank." "But why," she asked, languidly, "are you interested in such matters?" Mr. Sabin knocked the ash off the cigarette he was smoking and was silent for a moment. "One gets interested nowadays in--a great many things which scarcely seem to concern us," he remarked deliberately. "You, for instance, seem interested in this man's son. He cannot possibly be of any account to us." She shrugged her shoulders. "Did I say that I was interested in him?" "You did not," Mr. Sabin answered, "but it was scarcely necessary; you stopped to speak to him of your own accord, and you asked him to supper, which was scarcely discreet." "One gets so bored sometimes," she admitted frankly. "You are only a woman," he said indulgently; "a year of waiting seems to you an eternity, however vast the stake. There will come a time when you will see things differently." "I wonder!" she said softly, "I wonder!" * * * * * Mr. Sabin had unconsciously spoken the truth when he had pleaded an appointment to Lord Wolfenden. His servant drew him on one side directly they entered the house. "There is a young lady here, sir, waiting for you in the study." "Been here long?" Mr. Sabin asked. "About two hours, sir. She has rung once or twice to ask about you." Mr. Sabin turned away and opened the study door, carefully closing it behind him at once as he recognised his visitor. The air was blue with tobacco smoke, and the girl, who looked up at his entrance, held a cigarette between her fingers. Mr. Sabin was at least as surprised as Lord Wolfenden when he recognised his visitor, but his face was absolutely emotionless. He nodded not unkindly and stood looking at her, leaning upon his stick. "Well, Blanche, what has gone wrong?" he asked. "Pretty well everything," she answered. "I've been turned away." "Detected?" he asked quickly.