“I ’adn’t ’eard of it, sir,” was his answer. “There ’asn’t been a telegram that I know of, and I ’ave received no instructions.” 

 I lit my pipe and sat for twenty minutes reading a weekly paper. Then I got up and looked at the family portraits. The moon coming through the lattice invited me out-of-doors as a cure for my anxiety. It was after eleven o’clock, and I was still without any knowledge of my next step. It is a maddening business to be screwed up for an unpleasant job and to have the wheels of the confounded thing tarry. 

 Outside the house beyond a flagged terrace the lawn fell away, white in the moonshine, to the edge of the stream, which here had expanded into a miniature lake. By the water’s edge was a little formal garden with grey stone parapets which now gleamed like dusky marble. Great wafts of scent rose from it, for the lilacs were scarcely over and the may was in full blossom. Out from the shade of it came suddenly a voice like a nightingale. 

 It was singing the old song “Cherry Ripe”, a common enough thing which I had chiefly known from barrel-organs. But heard in the scented moonlight it seemed to hold all the lingering magic of an elder England and of this hallowed countryside. I stepped inside the garden bounds and saw the head of the girl Mary. 

 She was conscious of my presence, for she turned towards me. 

 “I was coming to look for you,” she said, “now that the house is quiet. I have something to say to you, General Hannay.” 

 She knew my name and must be somehow in the business. The thought entranced me. 

 “Thank God I can speak to you freely,” I cried. “Who and what are you—living in that house in that kind of company?” 

 “My good aunts!” She laughed softly. “They talk a great deal about their souls, but they really mean their nerves. Why, they are what you call my camouflage, and a very good one too.” 

 “And that cadaverous young prig?” 

 “Poor Launcelot! Yes—camouflage too—perhaps something a little more. You must not judge him too harshly.” 

 “But ... but—” I did not know how to put it, and stammered in my eagerness. “How can I tell that you are the right person for me to speak to? You see I am under orders, and I have got none about you.” 

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