knowing what he did, bereft of his wits. He had a confused, ridiculous
picture of himself wearing the flaccid, panic stricken face of Mr.
Lance, like an ass' head, not holding the wand of Titania. He reached
the window and stood in its embrasure, and there one definite,
practical thought crept into his mind. He was visible to these men who
were invisible to him. The thought suggested a precaution, and with
the trembling haste of a man afraid, he tore at the curtains and
dragged them till they met across the window so that even the faint
grey glimmer of the night no longer had entrance. The next moment
he heard the door behind him latch and a key turn in the lock. He
crouched beneath the window and did not stand up again until a light
was struck, and the lamp relit.

The lighting of the lamp restored Mr. Mitchelbourne, if not to the
full measure of his confidence, at all events to an appreciation that
the chief warrant for his trepidation was removed. What he had with
some appearance of reason feared was a sudden attack in the dark. With
the lamp lit, he could surely stand in no danger of any violence at
the hands of three King's officers whom he had never come across in
all his life. He took, therefore, an easy look at them. One, the
youngest, now leaned against the door, a youth of a frank, honest
face, unremarkable but for a firm set of the jaws. A youth of no great
intellect, thought Mitchelbourne, but tenacious, a youth marked out
for a subordinate command, and never likely for all his sterling
qualities to kindle a woman to a world-forgetting passion, or to tread
with her the fiery heights where life throbs at its fullest. Mr.
Mitchelbourne began to feel quite sorry for this young officer of the
limited capacities, and he was still in the sympathetic mood when one
of the two men at the table spoke to him. Mitchelbourne turned at
once. The officers were sitting with a certain air of the theatre in