She had risen with the intention of retiring to her own room, when the butler entered hurriedly, and with traces of well-disciplined agitation on his episcopal countenance. Mr. Prince had grown gray in the ducal service; but, beyond a slight fatherliness of manner, he did not presume on the fact towards the orphan scion of the great house. "I really don’t know, Miss, if I ought to disturb you so late on such a matter," he said. "Two men have called to see his Grace, and, failing him, insisted on my ascertaining if you would receive them." "I know nothing of the Duke’s affairs, and I am just going up to bed," Sybil replied, wondering at the usually correct retainer’s excitement. "Besides, Prince, ’insist’ is rather a curious word to use here," she added with a trace of asperity. "I should not have ventured to repeat such an objectionable phrase, Miss, if it had not been used with a sort of authority," the butler hastened to put himself right. "I ought to have mentioned that they are Scotland Yard detectives, which accounts for my being a bit flurried." Sybil promptly sat down again and bade Prince show the visitors in. She had no desire to pry into her cousin’s business, nor did her reception of the police-officers imply any such intention. But at that moment her preconceived notion that the Duke was the center of a mystery took definite shape, and she was above all things loyal to the house. She decided that in her cousin’s interest it would be wiser to see these men, and, if possible, fore-arm herself with a knowledge of their designs. But when Prince returned it was to usher in not two men, but only one—a cadaverous, middle-aged person in the garb of a clergyman, who waited obsequiously near the door while his card was presented by the butler. "I found when I got back into the hall that he’d sent the other man away, Miss—said there was no need for two of them to intrude upon you," explained Prince in an undertone. Sybil nodded, but the furtive glances of the clerically dressed visitor caused her to call Prince back as he was retiring. "I trust you didn’t leave them alone in the hall?" she whispered. "Oh, dear, no, Miss; William, the second footman, was on duty in the hall while I came to you," was the reply, uttered in a slightly injured tone. Prince having taken a dignified departure, Sybil beckoned forward the individual whom his card proclaimed to be "Inspector Chantrey, Criminal Investigation Department." He advanced with a shambling walk and with deprecating gestures in keeping with his disguise; but Sybil formed the opinion that all his nervousness was not simulated. It struck her that he was listening intently as he threaded his way through the priceless Louis Seize garniture of the white drawing-room.