"Well, give me my instructions. What am I to do?" he said, stiffly. "You have made a very good beginning already," replied Ziegler, watching him narrowly through the tinted glasses. "A gentleman, acting on behalf of the United States Government, will shortly bring to this country the three million pounds’ worth of Treasury bonds which we mean to have. It will be your task to relieve him of the paper, substituting bonds of our own make, which will be deposited at the Bank of England as security against a shipment of gold." "I see," the Duke murmured, mechanically. "But," he added with more animation, "how have I made a beginning already?" "By making yourself agreeable to Miss Leonie Sherman. It is her father, Senator Sherman, who is bringing the real bonds," was the answer, which struck a chill to the Duke’s heart and kept him speechless with amazement. This old scoundrel seemed to know everything, to have arranged everything, irrespective of time and space. "You ought to be grateful for my foresight in smoothing the way for you," Ziegler croaked, in evident enjoyment of his perplexity. "It was my agent who, by securing the good offices of a steward, had you placed next Miss Sherman at the saloon table on the _St. Paul_, with the result that he was able to report to me this morning from Southampton by telegraph that you had made use of your opportunity." "I see," was all the Duke could feebly repeat. "You have been invited to call on the Shermans in London? You know where they are staying, 140 Grosvenor Gardens?" "Yes," said Beaumanoir. "Good! Then your Grace will go on as you have begun. Gain the girl’s confidence, and that of her mother—the latter will be easy under the auspices of your new dignity—and come here again at twelve o’clock on Saturday morning, three days hence. I may then have further instructions for you." And Mr. Clinton Ziegler waved a white, well-formed hand in dismissal. CHAPTER IV—_The Lady in the Landau_ Beaumanoir passed into the corridor with unsteady steps, dazed by the enormity of his entanglement. He had been caught so easily, yet he was held so firmly. His first impulse was to rush off to Scotland Yard, expose the white-bearded wire-puller in the invalid chair, and claim protection. But that course would entail confession of his engagement as a criminal instrument, to the everlasting disgrace of the great family of which he was now the head. The alternatives were foul treachery to the girl of his heart or almost certain death at the hands of Ziegler’s disciplined ruffians. He had reached the top of the broad staircase when a step, almost inaudible on the thick pile carpet, sounded behind him and a hand fell on his shoulder. "Charley, old boy! Or is it ’your Grace’ I should be calling you? What the dickens are you doing here?" said the young man who had overtaken him.