But Claudia's beautiful face arose before him. Her dear eyes, with that familiar expression of tenderness, a little sad, but sweet with a love-look not to be mistaken, seemed to gaze upon him just as they had done during that blissful hour before midnight, when he had held her in his arms and breathed into her ear the declaration of his love. Ah, how passionately he loved her! No, he could not take farewell of life without once again beholding her! He descended the embankment and walked along what seemed interminable miles of streets, until he met at last a bricklayer on his way to work, carrying his tin tea-bottle in his hand. This man proved communicative, and informed him that he was at Rushey Green, on the main road which led through Lewisham and Deptford, where it entered one of the arteries of London, the Old Kent Road. He glanced at his watch and found that it was close upon five o'clock. Roused by this discovery, he pushed forward at a quicker pace, at length finding a belated cab in front of a coffee-stall, at which its driver was refreshing himself. Then, thoroughly worn out, he got into the conveyance and was driven back to his chambers. Old Parsons had a message for him when he reached home. "A man called to see you during the night, master Dudley. He wished to see you very particularly, but would leave no card." "What kind of man?" inquired his master suspiciously. "I think he was a gentleman. At least he spoke like one. I had never seen him before. He wanted to know whether he would find you down at the House, and I said that it was most probable you were there." "He wasn't a foreigner?" "Oh no," the old man answered. "Some papers have also been brought by a messenger. They are on your table." Dudley passed through into his study, put down his hat, and broke open the usual sealed packet of Parliamentary papers which reached him each night, and which contained among others, the draft of the questions to be addressed to him on the following day in his capacity of Foreign Under-Secretary in the House. Without seating himself he took out the question paper and looked at it. He glanced rapidly from paragraph to paragraph. Suddenly his gaze became fixed, and he held his breath. He read in the precise handwriting of Wrey, the following words: "Mr. Gerald Oldfield (Antrim West) to ask the Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs whether it is true that a certain member of this House, now a Member of Her Majesty's Government, has sold to the representative of a Foreign Power a copy of certain confidential diplomatic correspondence, and further whether it is not a fact that the Member of Her Majesty's Government referred to is guilty of the crime of wilful murder." The blue official paper fluttered from his nerveless fingers and fell to the ground. "My God!" he gasped, his jaws rigid, his eyes staring and fixed. "My secret is already known to my enemies!" CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. CONFESSES THE TRUTH.