“Is there any one,” he asked, “whom you suspect to have visited you for the purpose, either direct or indirect, of gaining information as to your work?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered promptly.

A little exclamation escaped from the Commander-in-Chief.  Lord Chelsford never removed his eyes from my face, the Duke had still the appearance of a tolerant but slightly bored listener.

“Who?” Lord Chelsford asked.

“The Prince of Malors,” I answered.

There was a moment’s silence.  Lord Cheisford turned again to his notes.  Then he looked up at me.

“Your reasons?” he asked.

I told them the story carefully and circumstantially.  When I had finished Colonel Ray left his seat and whispered something in Lord Chelsford’s ear.  The Duke interposed.

“I wish,” he said, “to add a brief remark to the story which you have just heard.  I have known Malors since he was a boy, my father knew his father, and, as you may know, our families have been frequently connected in marriage.  I do not wish to impugn the good faith of this young man, but the Prince of Malors was my guest, and the accusation against him is one which I cannot believe.”

“The story, as I have told it, sir, is absolutely true,” I said to Lord Cheisford.  “There was no room for any mistake or misapprehension on my part.  I am afraid that I haven’t been a great success as your secretary.  Colonel Ray gave me to understand, of course, that your object in engaging an utterly unknown person was to try and stop this leakage of information.  It is still going on, and I cannot stop it.  I am quite prepared to give up my post at any moment.”

Lord Chelsford nodded towards the door.

“Will you be so good as to step into the next room for a few minutes, Mr. Ducaine?” he said.  “We will discuss this matter together.”

I departed at once, and found my way into a bare waiting-room, hung with a few maps, and with uncarpeted floor.  The minutes dragged along slowly.  I hated the thought of dismissal, I rebelled against it almost fiercely.  I had done my duty, I had told the truth, there was nothing against me save this obstinate and quixotic loyalty of the Duke to an old family friend.  Yet I scarcely dared hope that there was a chance for me.

At last I heard the door open, and the sound of friendly adieux in the passage.  Lord Cheisford came in to me alone.  He took up a position with his back to the fire, and looked at me thoughtfully.

“Well, Mr. Ducaine,” he said, “we have discussed this matter thoroughly, and we are all practically agreed that there is no reason why we should ask you to give up your position.”

I was almost overcome.  It was a wonderful relief to me.

“But surely the Duke—­” I faltered.

“The Duke is very loyal to his friends, Mr. Ducaine,” he said, “but he is also a man with a nice sense of justice.  You and he regard two incidents from entirely different points of view, but he does not for a moment suggest that your account of them is not an honest one.  He looks upon you as a little nervous and overstrung by your responsibilities and disposed to be imaginative.  He will not hear anything against the Prince of Malors.”