‘Bah!’ she replied. ‘Simply by asking. When I got your address, the rest was easy. So you decline to be a gentleman in the manner that I suggest? I might have anticipated as much. I might have known that I was coming to London on a fool’s errand. And yet something in your face hinted to me that perhaps after all----’ ‘Miss Craig,’ he said earnestly, ‘I cannot, abandon the inquiry now, because I have already abandoned it. I came down to London this morning with the intention of doing nothing more in the matter, and by noon to-day I had informed my clients to that effect.’ ‘I was not, then, mistaken in you,’ she murmured. To his intense astonishment there was the tremor of a sob in that proud voice. ‘Not entirely mistaken,’ he said, with a faint smile. ‘What induced you to give up the business of spying upon us?’ she asked, looking at him. ‘How can I tell?’ he answered; ‘conscience, perhaps, though a private detective is not supposed to possess such a thing. Perhaps I did it because I reciprocated your sentinents towards me, Miss Craig.’ ‘My sentiments towards you?’ ‘Yes,’ he said audaciously. ‘You said just how that you liked me.’ Instead of taking offence, she positively smiled. She had the courage of a guileless heart. ‘And let me tell you, Miss Craig,’ he went on, and his earnestness became passionate, ‘that I will do anything that lies in my power to serve you. I don’t care what it is. I don’t care what trouble you are in; count on me.’ ‘How do you know that I am in trouble?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he said; ‘I merely feel it Miss Craig, let me help you.’ ‘You don’t know what you are saying,’ she replied evasively. He jumped up and seized her hand, the small hand, browned by summer sunshine. ‘Let me help you,’ he repeated. ‘If you knew,’ she said, hiding her face, ‘what trouble I am in!’ He saw that she was crying. She drew away her hand impulsively. ‘I will help you!’ he exclaimed; ‘the spy the scorned spy, insists on helping you. No, tell me.’ ‘Let me go,’ she said. ‘I came to London to entreat your silence and inaction. I went about the affair in a strange and silly way, but it happens that I have succeeded. You have promised to do nothing further. That suffices Let me go.’ ‘You shall not go,’ he almost shouted; ‘I tell you you shall not go until you have confided in me. I owe you some reparation, and I positively insist on giving it.’ She raised her face and gazed at him. ‘I am the child of all misfortune,’ she said ‘as my country is the most unfortunate of countries. Mr. Redgrave, my father has disappeared.’ ‘Oh!’ he said, as if to say, ‘Is that all?’ ‘And I dare not search for him.’ ‘They told me at the bank that he had gone on his annual holiday.’ ‘Then you inquired at the bank?’ she asked swiftly. ‘It was my last act of spying,’ he said. ‘Why dare you not search for your father, Miss Craig?’ ‘Because--because I might find more than I wished to find.’