"This is odd--very odd!" he muttered. "I had no idea that Miss Napier was out of London. I wonder, now, how she came to have missed all news of her father's death? Can she have mixed herself up in this manuscript hunt--under pressure from Lord Cyril Cuthbertson or the Earl of Fotheringay, for instance? I remember, now, that she was a great patriot at one time--used to speak for the Primrose League and organisations like that. It would have been a masterly stroke on their part to get hold of her--to work on my father--for he has had always a very soft corner in his heart for her, and in the old days the colonel used to say there was nothing he would refuse her. What do you think, Glynn?" he added, turning suddenly to me. "Is it your idea that she has come under some lofty notion that England's interests are in peril both from the Jesuits and from Spain, and if she doesn't circumvent these enemies the Lake of Sacred Treasure will be lost to this country for ever?" But I refused to be drawn. Her appearance was sudden, too unexpected. "I don't know," I answered. "I can't even guess. The thing may be a ruse on the part of the wretch that killed her father. He may fear the effect of her disclosures. I must wait; just now I cannot see." "At all events, I am sure the hunchback is no partisan to any move like that last one you mention," returned Casteno stoutly, with something resembling offended family pride vibrating through his voice. "Indeed, I am certain that as yet he knows nothing, absolutely nothing, about the tragedy at Whitehall Court. He has been too busy trying to decipher the manuscripts to have had any time or strength to glance at the Saturday night or Sunday morning papers. As for Captain Sparhawk, like all enthusiastic inventors, he is a man of one idea. He can think of nothing, talk of nothing, dream of nothing, read of nothing but the flying machine which he is going to try to-morrow in the Quarry at the great floral fete." With a nod that might mean anything or nothing I fell into step with my companion. By this time Doris, the hunchback, and the aeronaut had got quite a considerable distance ahead. As a matter of fact, I was just then struggling with a fierce desire to rush forward--to see Doris face to face--to speak with her--to tell her all that had happened--to warn her of her dangers--to assure her and myself that nothing on earth could part us. Hence it was I could not carry on any conversation no matter how important. I had first to conquer myself. Haste would ruin all.