"Very well," I said, and the aged retainer, leading the way along a spacious but rather cheerless corridor, stopped before the door of the great library, and throwing it suddenly open, announced me. "At last, Deedes," I heard the Earl exclaim in a tone that showed him to be in no amiable mood; and as I entered the long, handsome chamber, lined from floor to ceiling with books, I did not at first notice him until he rose slowly from a large writing-table, behind which he had been hidden. His face, usually wizened and pale, was absolutely bloodless. Its appearance startled me. "I wired you last night, and expected you by the 9:18 this morning, Why did you not come?" was his first question, uttered in a sharp tone of annoyance. "The sudden death of a friend caused me to lose the train I intended to catch," I explained. "Death!" he snapped, in the manner habitual to him when impatient. "Is the death of a friend any account when the interests of the country are at stake? On the night my wife was dying I was compelled to leave her bedside to travel to Balmoral to have audience of Her Majesty regarding a document I had sent for the Royal assent. When I returned, Lady Warnham had been dead fourteen hours. In the successful diplomat there must be no sentiment--none." "The five minutes I lost when I discovered my friend dead caused me to miss my train from Staines to London," I explained. "But you received my telegram, and should have strictly regarded its urgency," he answered, with an air of extreme dissatisfaction. "The fact of its being in cipher was sufficient to show its importance." "I was out dining, and my man brought it along to me," I said. "Why did he do so?" he inquired quickly. "Because he thought it might be urgent." "Did he open it?" "No. Even if he had it was in cipher." "Is your man absolutely trustworthy?" he asked. "He has been in the service of my family for fifteen years. He was my father's valet at the Hague." "Is his name Juckes?" he inquired. "Yes." "Ah! I know him. He is absolutely trustworthy; a most excellent man." The Earl's manner surprised me. His face, usually calm, sphinx-like and expressionless, betrayed the most intense anxiety and suspicion. That my delay had caused him great annoyance was apparent, but the anxious expression upon his ashen, almost haggard face was such, that even in moments of extreme perplexity, when dealing with one or other of the many complex questions of foreign policy, it had never been so intense. Standing with his back to one of the great bay windows that commanded extensive views of the picturesque park, he was silent for a moment, then turning his keen, grey eyes upon me, he suddenly exclaimed, in a tone of extreme gravity,-- "Since yesterday, Deedes, a catastrophe has occurred." "You briefly hinted at it in your telegram," I answered. "What is its nature?"