He would not acknowledge even to himself how deeply stirred he was by all that he had heard, and now by the anticipation of what was yet to come. Emotion--like he was experiencing now--had never come his way before now. He had lost his only son on the Modder River--that had been sorrow of an acute kind; he had laid a much loved wife to rest in the village churchyard close to his stately home in Kent; and he had escorted his late beloved sovereign to her last resting place on that never-to-be-forgotten day close on five years ago now; those three events in his life had been the great strains to which his nerves and sensibilities had been subjected in the past. But this was altogether different. The sensations which the good man experienced were such that he scarcely knew them himself; he had faced sorrow before, never dishonour--some one else's dishonour, of course--still it touched him very nearly, for, though he might not be a very keen observer, he dearly loved his daughter, and dishonour seemed to be touching her, striking at her through Luke. CHAPTER XX AND THAT'S THE TRUTH Frederick Power was shown in. I won't have you think that there was anything remarkable about the man, or anything that would--even momentarily--distinguish him from any number of other hall porters, who wear a uniform and peaked cap, have the air of having seen military service, and wear a couple of medals on a well-developed chest. He was perfectly respectful, all the more so because Sir Thomas was General Sir Thomas Ryder, K.C.B.--a fact which impressed the ex-soldier far more than any other exalted title, non-military in character, would have done. He saluted and stood at attention, and as he gave answer to Sir Thomas's preliminary questions his words rang out clear and direct, obviously truthful, as if echoing in the barrack yard at 6 A.M. of a frosty spring morning. "Your name is----?" "Frederick Power, sir." "You are hall porter at the Veterans' Club in Shaftesbury Avenue?" "Yes, sir." "You were in the lobby of the club last night as usual?" "Yes, sir." "And Mr. Philip de Mountford, who is a member of the club, was in the smoking room at eight o'clock yesterday evening?" "Yes, sir." "He came almost every evening, I understand?" "That's right, sir." "Alone mostly?" "Not often, sir. Lord Radclyffe was with him most evenings." "And Lord Radclyffe and Mr. de Mountford dined together on those occasions in the club dining-room?" "Yes, sir." "But last night Mr. de Mountford was alone?" "Yes, sir. He had some dinner at about half past seven and then he went to the smoking room." "Later on a gentleman called to see him?" "That's right, sir. It was about a quarter past eight. The gentleman asked to see Lord Radclyffe, but I said that 'is lordship 'adn't come to the club this night. Then the gentleman asked if Mr. de Mountford was in, and I said yes." "And you showed him into the smoking room?"