"Stop!" she interrupted, and in the moonlight he could see her bosom heave. "You had better not say too much. Let us leave the subject alone until we get out of these troubles." Eustace was quite willing to do this. He could scarcely tax her with being in love with Frank on the evidence of Darrel. But he was resolved to question Lancaster at the first opportunity. Meantime, seeing that Mildred was disposed to grow angry, he thought it best to leave the matter alone. "Where is he?" was his question. Mildred looked round as though she thought the birds of the air might overhear. "He is in the summer-house," she said. "There is a small room at the back, which I fitted up as a kind of studio for painting." "But is that safe, Mildred?" "Quite safe. No one ever goes there but me. The summer-house, as you can see, is quite buried amongst the trees, and I have hung some Eastern stuffs round the walls to conceal the door into the studio. Besides," she added, with a little hesitation, "no one would ever think of looking for him in my house." "No. That is all right," assented Jarman; "but why did he come?" "For the very reason I have stated. He was afraid lest Mr. Darrel should send a message to the police, so he gave the key of your house to old Bowles, and came in the afternoon--" "As Desmond O'Neil?" "Certainly. Then he told me his story. At first I was horrified, but, remembering how you believed in his innocence, I decided to help him. As the secretary, he then went for a long walk, and came back at night. I had the studio ready for him, and he has been in it ever since." "Let me see him," said Jarman, rising. "One moment," said Mildred, catching his hand; "you will find him different to what you expect. His disguise has been taken off." "Were you surprised at the change?" "No." She blushed. "The fact is, Eustace, I saw him in the theatre on that night, so I knew him again when he became himself." Jarman felt a jealous pang. He began to think that Mildred loved the boy, seeing how she blushed when she spoke of him. Also her voice faltered, and she seemed embarrassed. At first Eustace almost felt inclined to speak out, and demand if she loved Lancaster; but remembering the position of the young man, and being afraid of the wrath of Mildred, he held his tongue. In silence they moved across the lawn and entered the summer-house. It was luminous with moonlight, and Eustace saw a faint sparkle of gold, the threads of the Eastern stuffs which draped the walls. Mildred gave a little cough, and repeated it twice. "The signal!" she whispered with her finger on her lips; and in spite of the gravity of the position she seemed quite to enjoy its mystery. In many ways Mildred Starth was still a schoolgirl. From the other side of the wall came a cough, and this also was repeated twice. Mildred drew aside the drapery and revealed a door.