The car's waiting now. You'll excuse me, won't you, Thomson?""Of course," the latter assented. "I must leave early myself. I have to go back to the War Office."Geraldine took his arm and led him into the little morning-room.

"You see, I am carrying you off in the most bare-faced fashion," she began, motioning him to a seat by her side, "but really you are such an elusive person, and only this morning, in the midst of that awful thunder of bombs, when we stood on the roof and looked at London breaking out into flames, Icouldn't help thinking--remembering, I mean--how short a time it is since you and I were face to face with the other horror and you saved my life. Do you know, I don't think that I have ever said 'thank you'--not properly?""I think the words may go," he answered, smiling. "It was a horrible time while it lasted but it was soon over. The worst part of it was seeing those others, whom we could not help, drifting by.""I should have been with them but for you," she said quietly. "Don't think that I don't know it. Don't think that I don't regret sometimes, Hugh, that Ididn't trust you a little more completely. You are right about so many things. But, Hugh, will you tell me something?""Of course!"

"Why were you so almost obstinately silent when father spoke of poor Captain Granet's death?""Because I couldn't agree with what he said," Thomson replied. "I think that Granet's death in exactly that fashion was the best thing that could possibly have happened for him and for all of us."She shivered as she looked at him.

"Aren't you a little cruel?" she murmured.

"I am not cruel at all," he assured her firmly. "Let me quote the words of a greater man--'I have no enemies but the enemies of my country, and for them Ihave no mercy.'"

"You still believe that Captain Granet--"

"There is no longer any doubt as to his complete guilt. As you know yourself, the cipher letter warning certain people in London of the coming raid, passed through his hands. He even came here to warn you. There were other charges against him which could have been proved up to the hilt. While we are upon this subject, Geraldine, let me finish with it absolutely. Only a short time ago I confronted him with his guilt, I gave him ten days during which it was my hope that he would embrace the only honourable course left to him. I took a risk leaving him free, but during the latter part of the time he was watched day and night. If he had lived until this morning, there isn't any power on earth could have kept him from the Tower, or any judge, however merciful, who could have saved him from being shot.""It is too awful," she faltered, "and yet--it makes me so ashamed, Hugh, to think that I could not have trusted you more absolutely."He opened his pocket-book and a little flush of colour came suddenly into her cheeks. He drew out the ring silently.

"Will you trust yourself now and finally, Geraldine?" he asked.

She held out her finger.

"I shall be so proud and so happy to have it again," she whispered. "I do really feel as though I had behaved like a foolish child, and I don't like the feeling at all, because in these days one should be more than ordinarily serious, shouldn't one? Shall I be able to make it up to you, Hugh, do you think?"He stooped to meet her lips.

"There is an atonement you might make, dear," he ventured. "Do you remember a suggestion of mine at one of those historic luncheons of Lady Anselman's?"She laughed into his eyes for a moment and then looked away.

"I was wondering whether you had forgotten that," she confessed.