He spoke for no more than a quarter of an hour, but it was one of the most brilliant oratorical efforts ever heard in the Lower Chamber, and when he reseated himself, amid a roar of applause from the Government benches, it was felt that the tide had been turned and the Opposition had once more been defeated. Hardly had Monkton sat down when, remembering that he had guests at home, he rose and walked out. He passed out into Palace Yard just before ten o'clock and turned his steps homeward, the night being bright and starlit and the air refreshing. So he decided to walk. Half-an-hour after Cicely and her husband had left Chesterfield Street Sheila again rang up the House and made further inquiry, with the same result, namely, that the Colonial Minister had left Westminster just before ten o'clock. Monkton had been seen in St Stephen's Hall chatting for a moment with Horace Powell, the fiery Member for East Islington, whom he had wished "good-night" and then left. So for still a further half-hour Sheila, though growing very uneasy, sat chatting with Austin, who, be it said, had made no further advances. He longed to grasp her slim white hand and press it to his lips. But he dared not. "I can't think where father can be!" exclaimed the girl presently, rising and handing her companion the glass box of cigarettes. "Look! it is already one o'clock, and he promised most faithfully he would be back to wish the Wheelers farewell." "Oh! he may have been delayed--met somebody and gone to the club perhaps," Austin suggested. "You know how terribly busy he is." "I know, of course--but he always rings me up if he is delayed, so that I need not sit up for him, and Grant goes to bed." "Well, I don't see any necessity for uneasiness," declared the young man. "He'll be here in a moment, no doubt. But if he is not here very soon I'll have to be getting along to Half Moon Street." Through the next ten minutes the eyes of both were constantly upon the clock until, at a quarter-past one, Wingate rose, excusing himself, and saying: "If I were you I shouldn't wait up any longer. You've had a long day. Grant will wait up for your father." "The good old fellow is just as tired as I am--perhaps more so," remarked the girl sympathetically. And then the pair descended to the hall, where Sheila helped him on with his coat. "Well--good-night--and don't worry," Austin urged cheerfully as their hands met. The contact sent a thrill through him. Yes. No woman had ever stirred his soul in that manner before. He loved her--yes, loved her honestly, truly, devotedly, and at that instant he knew, by some strange intuition, that their lives were linked by some mysterious inexplicable bond. He could not account for it, but it was so. He knew it.