“I thought you took things rather quietly, Father—­I might have known it was too good to be true.  What did you come here for?  You surely knew it was something we could not have you concerned in.”

The priest laughed at Mark’s rueful tone.

“You should have known better, Mark, than to think I could be so easily deceived.  I am going to be mixed up in anything that concerns the welfare of Ruth.  Besides,” he added, with another quiet laugh, “I heard everything you two said this morning.  I saw Saunders coming down the hall as I was leaving, and, as it was rather early for a casual visit, I came back to see what he was up to.”

“Then why in—­I beg your pardon, Father—­why in all common sense,” blurted out Saunders, “did you come here?  You can’t help, and we are taking the only possible way.”

“Happily,” rejoined Father Murray, “it is not the only way.  Come out of this, and I will tell you something you will be very glad to hear.  Let us get back to your automobile.  We must not go very far away, for we have yet to call at the Ministry, when His Excellency returns.”

“To-night?”

“This morning,” gently corrected the priest.  It was now well on toward one o’clock.

The three men obeyed him.  The ex-fireman got into the automobile, while Mark and Saunders walked with Father Murray a short distance off.  When they were out of earshot, the priest turned to his companions.

“You two have been working your own plans while I have been working mine.  When you had finished your little secret conference, I went to St. Patrick’s and said Mass.  When I returned to the hotel, Mark didn’t seem to appreciate my company, so I left rather early.  Before going to Brookland, I called at the State Department.  Happily, I know someone quite high up, so I had no trouble.  I told him the whole story, and he promised to help me.  A few hours ago he sent for me again and—­” the priest smiled at his hearers’ evident anxiety to hear the details—­“and everything will be all right now.  We are to see the Minister as soon as he returns from the banquet.  He will probably be back by one o’clock, and he will listen—­and listen well—­to what I have to say.  The guard will be off before we leave, and Ruth will be at the hotel before noon.”

“But, Father,” said Mark, “how can you do it?  The State Department cannot get into this thing officially—­cannot interfere at all.  It is too delicate.  To-morrow morning Ruth will be on her way to the seacoast, as sure as fate.  She will be kept hidden there until that warship comes.”

“The warship will not come,” answered Father Murray.  “His Majesty’s warships will be engaged very busily for some time to come.  My information—­information which so far has not leaked out to the public—­is that the Big Kingdom is on the verge of war.  There will be no warship flying that flag on this side of the water for a long time.”