She pondered those things for a long while and then with a sigh of uncertainty dismissed them from her thoughts, which were too full of the immediate necessity to carry out her carefully formulated plans. First she called Wilson and after assuring herself that she was making no mistake, took her partially into confidence, telling her of the important paper intrusted by Mr. Hammersley to her care which it was to the interest of other persons to possess and the necessity for getting them safely out of the house. Her mistress’s confidences flattered the maid and she entered very willingly into the affair, concealing the emerald brooch which Doris produced from her jewel box, in a trunk containing old clothes which had long stood neglected in a dusty corner of the attic. After the visit of the man from Watford, who went over the situation with a puzzled brow and departed still puzzled, she confided to her father the letter and package which were to be mailed from London, the letter in the morning, the package not until night. “Don’t fail me, daddy. It’s _very_ important----” she said as she kissed him. “It’s a surprise for Betty, but it mustn’t get to Scotland until tomorrow night at the earliest. And good-by----” And she kissed him again. “I’m going with it.” “Tonight?” “Tomorrow.” Mr. Mather smiled and pinched her cheeks. He was quite accustomed to sudden changes of plan on the part of his daughter and would as soon have thought of questioning them as he would the changes in the weather. He hadn’t liked the idea of her hunting or playing polo, but she had done them both and cajoled him into approving of her. He had objected fearfully when she went in for aviation, but had learned to watch the flights of her little Nieuport with growing confidence and had even erected a shed for her machines in the meadow behind the stables. “Take care of yourself,” he said lightly. “You’re looking a little peaky lately. If you don’t get rosier I’ll withdraw my ambulance corps.” She laughed. “Don’t forget!” she flung after him as he got into the car. With the departure of the yellow packet a weight had been lifted from Doris’s mind. John Rizzio’s men might come now if they liked--and she would invite them to search the place. She was not in the least afraid of herself, and she knew that the danger to Cyril had passed--at least for the present. She hoped that Cyril wouldn’t come today--or telephone her. She wanted time to think of what she should say to him. At moments it even seemed as though she didn’t care if she ever saw him again. But as the day passed and she had no word from him, she grew anxious. What if Rizzio had told the War Office!