“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Each man according to his lights. You have your orders. I have mine. They seem to conflict. I’m going to carry mine out. If that interferes with carrying out yours, I’m not to blame. It’s what happens in the end that matters,” he finished significantly. Rizzio thought deeply for a moment. “You’ll at least let me see them?” “No, I can’t.” “Why?” “I have my own reasons.” Another pause in which Rizzio gave every appearance of a baffled man. “You realize that if I gave the alarm and those papers were found on you----” “You wouldn’t do that.” “Why not?” “Because of your card-case.” “That signifies nothing to anyone but you and me.” Hammersley smiled. “I’ll take the risk, Rizzio,” he said finally. The two men had been so absorbed in their conversation that they had not heard the drawing of the curtains of the door, but a sound made them turn and there stood Doris Mather. CHAPTER III RICE-PAPERS Doris looked from the man whose hand she had accepted to the one she had refused. Their attitudes were eloquent of concealment and the few phrases which had reached her ears as she paused outside the curtain did nothing to relieve the sudden tension of her fears. She hesitated for a moment as Rizzio recovered himself with an effort. “Do come in, Doris,” he said with a smile. “Hammersley and I were--er----” “Discussing the scrap of paper. I’m sure of it,” she said coolly. “Nothing is so fruitful of argument. I shouldn’t have intruded, but Cyril was to take me home and I’m ready to go.” A look passed between the men. “By Jove--of course,” said Cyril with a glance at his watch. “If you’ll excuse me, Rizzio----” “Betty is going to Scotland tomorrow early and I think she wants to go to bed.” Rizzio laughed. “The war has made us virtuous. Eleven o’clock! We’re losing our beauty sleep.” He followed them to the door, but pleading a desire for a night-cap, remained in the smoking-room. “I promised that you should take me home,” said the girl to Hammersley as they passed along the hall. “But I’m sorry if I interrupted----” “Awf’ly glad,” he murmured. “Nothing important, you know. Club matter. Personal.” Doris stopped just outside the drawing-room door and searched his face keenly, while she whispered: “And the threats--of exposure. Oh, I heard that. I couldn’t help it--Cyril--” He glanced down at her quickly. “Hush, Doris.” Something she saw in his expression changed her resolution to question him. The mystery which she had felt to hang about him since he had said he was a coward had deepened. Something told her that she had been treading on forbidden ground and that in obeying him she served his interests best, so she led the way into the drawing-room, where they made their adieux. Byfield had already gone and Sandys and Lady Joyliffe were just getting into their wraps. “You’ll meet me here at ten?” their hostess was asking of Constance Joyliffe.