He sent no warning of his approach. A letter could not go with greater speed than Denham went himself. Now that he was actually on the road to Polly, each hour’s delay became all but insupportable. Six long years since he had said good-bye for one fortnight to Polly! Would she be altered—as much as he himself was altered? It was a cold day, late in spring, when he found himself at the front door of the Bryces’ comfortable mansion. The old butler opened to Denham, as once before to Roy, but this time Drake was not taken in. One glance—and his face changed. “Sir!” “You know me? I hardly thought you would.” Ivor grasped kindly the old retainer’s hand. “I am taking you all by surprise.” “It is a surprise indeed, sir. And I’m heartily glad to see you again. Not but what you ain’t looking as you should, sir. Them furrin parts haven’t suited you, I’m thinkin’.” “Captivity has not suited me. And I have travelled hard, and taken little rest. But the old country will put me right. Who is in?” “My mistress, sir, is in the drawing-room, and Miss Keene and Miss Baron. I was about to take in lights.” “Wait till I have gone in. And Drake, you can announce me, but don’t say my name so that it can be heard.” Drake obeyed to the letter. He threw open the drawing-room door, and mumbled something inaudible. Denham entered, bowing ceremoniously. “You can bring lights, Drake,” said Mrs. Bryce. The room was dark, and the fire had fallen low. “Yes, ma’am.” “I’m excessive glad to see you, sir,” Mrs. Bryce declared cordially, after a hurried whisper to Polly, “_Who_ did he say, my dear? Oh, well, ’tis easy to see—he’s one of the military. A soldier home from the wars.” Then she turned to Ivor with her welcome. “Mr. Bryce is away, I’m sorry to say, but doubtless you can await his return, and Mr. Baron will be in this minute.” Ivor had some difficulty in recognising his friend Roy under this designation. Polly was casting half-shy glances at him. Something in the outline of his figure, dim though the light was, brought Denham to her mind, but it was not until he spoke that her colour changed fast from pink to white and from white to pink. “I shouldn’t be surprised to be informed, sir, that you are but just home from the war,” said Mrs. Bryce. “I have not been fighting, I regret to say. My turn for that will no doubt come. I have been long a prisoner.” “And you have obtained your release?” “The Emperor has consented to my return.” Mrs. Bryce held up both hands.