“I do not doubt it, sir,” Sir Meyville replied, “but it is the harmless people of the world who do the most mischief. An idle word here or there and great secrets are given away. If you will allow me, I will show you a quicker way down the avenue, without going to the house.” Granet shrugged his shoulders. “Just as you will, sir,” he assented. “You can go in, Isabel,” her father directed curtly. “I will see Captain Granet off.” She obeyed and took leave of her guest with a little shrug of the shoulders. Sir Meyville took Granet’s arm and led him down the avenue. “Captain Granet,” he said gravely, “I am an indiscreet person and I have an indiscreet daughter. Bearing in mind your profession, I may speak to you as man to man. Keep what you have seen absolutely secret. Put a seal upon your memory. Go back to Brancaster and don’t even look again in this direction. The soldiers round this place have orders not to stand on ceremony with any one, and by to-night I believe we are to have an escort of Marines here as well. What you have seen is for the good of the country.” “I congratulate you heartily, sir,” Granet replied, shaking hands. “Of course I’ll keep away, if I must. I hope when this is all over, though, you will allow me to come and renew my acquaintance with your daughter.” “When it is over, with pleasure,” Sir Meyville assented. Granet stepped into his car and drove off. The inventor stood looking after him. Then he spoke to the sentry and made his way across the gardens towards the boat-shed. “I ought to have known it from the first,” he muttered. “Reciprocal refraction was the one thing to think about.” Granet, as he drove back to the Dormy House, was conscious of a curious change in the weather. The wind, which had been blowing more or less during the last few days, had suddenly dropped. There was a new heaviness in the atmosphere, little banks of transparent mist were drifting in from seawards. More than once he stopped the car and, standing up, looked steadily away seawards. The long stretch of marshland, on which the golf links were situated, was empty. A slight, drizzling rain was falling. He found, when he reached the Dormy House, that nearly all the men were assembled in one of the large sitting-rooms. A table of bridge had been made up. Mr. Collins was seated in an easy-chair close to the window, reading a review. Granet accepted a cup of tea and stood on the hearth-rug. “How did the golf go this afternoon?” he inquired. “I was dead off it,” Anselman replied gloomily. “Our friend in the easy-chair there knocked spots off us.” Mr. Collins looked up and grunted and looked out of the window again. “Either of you fellows going to cut in at bridge?” young Anselman continued. Granet shook his head and walked to the window. “I can’t stick cards in the daytime.” Mr. Collins shut up his review.