“I think she’s safe for the present,” Julian pronounced.  “You see, she isn’t in possession of the incriminating document.  I took it from her when she was in danger of arrest.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“You can’t have much doubt about that,” was the composed reply.  “I shall go to town to-morrow and hand it over to the proper authorities.”

Julian rose to his feet as he spoke.  Furley looked at him helplessly.

“How in heaven’s name, man,” he groaned, “shall I be able to make you see the truth!”

A touch of the winter sunlight was upon Julian’s face which, curiously enough, at that moment resembled his father’s in its cold, patrician lines.  The mention of Nicholas Fenn’s name seemed to have transformed him.

“If I were you, Furley,” he advised, “for the sake of our friendship, I wouldn’t try.  There is no consideration in the world which would alter my intentions.”

There was the sound of the lifting of the outer latch, a knock at the door.  The incoming visitors stood upon no ceremony.  Mr. Stenson and Catherine showed themselves upon the threshold.

Mr. Stenson waved aside all ceremony and at once checked Furley’s attempt to rise to his feet.

“Pray don’t get up, Furley,” he begged, shaking hands with him.  “I hope you’ll forgive such an informal visit.  I met Miss Abbeway on my way down to the sea, and when she told me that she was coming to call on you, I asked leave to accompany her.”

“You’re very welcome, sir,” was the cordial response.  “It’s an honour which I scarcely expected.”

Julian found chairs for every one, and Mr. Stenson, recognising intuitively a certain state of tension, continued his good-humoured remarks.

“Miss Abbeway and I,” he said, “have been having a most interesting conversation, or rather argument.  I find that she is entirely of your way of thinking, Furley.  You both belong to the order of what I call puffball politicians.”

Catherine laughed heartily at the simile.

“Mr. Stenson is a glaring example,” she pointed out, “of those who do not know their own friends.  Mr. Furley and I both believe that some time or other our views will appeal to the whole of the intellectual and unselfish world.”

“It’s a terrible job to get people to think,” Furley observed.  “They are nearly always busy doing something else.”

“And these aristocrats!” Catherine continued, smiling at Julian.  “You spoil them so in England, you know.  Eton and Oxford are simply terrible in their narrowing effect upon your young men.  It’s like putting your raw material into a sausage machine.”

“Miss Abbeway is very severe this morning,” Stenson declared, with unabated good humour.  “She has been attacking my policy and my principles during the whole of our walk.  Bad luck about your accident, Furley.  I suppose we should have met whilst I am down here, if you hadn’t developed too adventurous a spirit.”