"None whatever," said the doctor promptly. "Our only danger for the moment is this man Beale, but he knows nothing, and so long as we only have him guessing there is no great harm done--and, anyway, he hasn't much longer to guess." "It seems much too simple," said Milsom, shaking his head. Van Heerden had heard a footfall in the hall, stepped quickly to the door and opened it. "Well, Gregory?" he said. "He is here," replied the other, and waved his hand to a figure who stood behind him. "Also, the parson is coming down the road." "Good, let us have our friend in." The pink-faced foreigner with his stiff little moustache and his yellow boots stepped into the room, clicked his heels and bowed. "Have I the honour of addressing Doctor von Heerden?" "Van Heerden," corrected the doctor with a smile "that is my name." Both men spoke in German. "I have a letter for your excellency," said the messenger. "I have been seeking you for many days and I wish to report that unauthorized persons have attempted to take this from me." Van Heerden nodded, tore open the envelope and read the half a dozen lines. "The test-word is 'Breslau,'" he said in a low voice, and the messenger beamed. "I have the honour to convey to you the word." He whispered something in van Heerden's ear and Milsom, who did not understand German very well and had been trying to pick up a word or two, saw the look of exultation that came to the doctor's face. He leapt back and threw out his arms, and his strong voice rang with the words which the German hymnal has made famous: "Gott sei Dank durch alle Welt, Gott sei Dank durch alle Welt!" "What are you thanking God about?" asked Milsom. "It's come, it's come!" cried van Heerden, his eyes ablaze. "The Government is with me; behind me, my beautiful country. Oh, Gott sei Dank!" "The parson," warned Milsom. A young man stood looking through the open door. "The parson, yes," said van Heerden, "there's no need for it, but we'll have this wedding. Yes, we'll have it! Come in, sir." He was almost boyishly jovial. Milsom had never seen him like that before. "Come in, sir." "I am sorry to hear your fiancee is ill," said the curate. "Yes, yes, but that will not hinder the ceremony. I'll go myself and prepare her." Milsom had walked round the table to the window, and it was he who checked the doctor as he was leaving the room. "Doctor," he said, "come here." Van Heerden detected a strain of anxiety in the other's voice. "What is it?" he said. "Do you hear somebody speaking?" They stood by the window and listened intently. "Come with me," said the doctor, and he walked noiselessly and ascended the stairs, followed more slowly by his heavier companion. CHAPTER XX THE MARRIAGE A quarter of a mile from Deans Folly a motor-car was halted on the side of a hill overlooking the valley in which van Heerden's house was set.