"No. I have done nothing wrong. Only, events might put you in a false position. You might be accused and be obliged to be silent. Would you flinch from prison in a good cause?" For a disgraceful moment Henry Brown wished to say, "The cause be blowed," but happily his eyes met hers. Innocence, reinforced by pretty features, has an easy prey in besotted experience. She lowered her lashes in virginal confusion and appeal. "I'll do it!" said Henry Brown, setting his teeth. "That is, if you're on the square." She clapped her hands. "Oh, thank you! thank you! I promise that I am on the square. Really, I am a victim.... What I want you to do is to become, for a short time, a kind of detective." "A detective!" "An amateur. If you can leave the guidance of your business to another for a time." Her hand touched his again, possibly by accident. "N--yes," he said, determined. "Yes, I mean--yes." "I shall tell you the story another time. For the present I shall say that it has to do with some papers. I may ask you to follow and watch a man. I may ask you to get back for me the documents. I may--I do not know. It may even be necessary for you to leave London for a brief space. For the present we can do nothing, but will you hold yourself in readiness to act at a word--a sign--a telegram from me?" Things were developing more rapidly than Henry Brown liked, but he was a man of his word and--she was a delightful creature. "I will." "Thank you," she breathed, and this time plainly pressed his hand. He seized it and returned the pressure, feeling like a knight of the middle ages. (Or a middle-aged knight?) "And you are content to do this without reasons--explanations?" "If you'll give me one excuse," he said craftily. "_Bitte?_" "I don't know what they call it in your language," said Henry, and hesitated. A shred of bashfulness still hung about him, but he was growing up fast--expanding like a flower beneath the sun. "May I explain?" he asked courageously. "But certainly!" So Henry kissed her. "For that excuse," he whispered with a new-found eloquence, "I'd do more than you ask." She laughed and imprinted a feather upon his cheek. "So you have a soul after all!" she said happily. "I congratulate you and ... myself." The last word was inaudible; indeed it was not meant for the new henchman of Romance. CHAPTER VII MR. HEDDERWICK'S FIRST ADVENTURE "Alicia, my dear," said Robert Hedderwick to his wife, as he was smoking after dinner, "shall we talk about our annual holiday?" His wife, a determined lady of forty-five--six years younger than he,--put down her knitting. "By all means, Robert, if you wish. But I do not know what there is to discuss. It is not yet July and we never go away till August, so there is plenty of time." "But why should we not go away in July this year?" he suggested, somewhat diffidently. "Why should we?" "Well ... it would be a change...."