waited while Wyndham disappeared among the ruins. Presently he returned with a lantern, which he lighted and handed to Paul. Thus equipped, he once more took his position in the bucket.

"Pay out slowly, and I'll tell you when to stop."

The bucket slowly descended till Paul was within a foot or two of the water.

"Stop!" he shouted.

The bucket stopped, then Paul leaned over the side, and flashed the light of the lantern on the water. There, to his great joy, was the missing letter, floating on the weeds. He cautiously leaned forward, and grasping the letter, returned it once more in safety to his pocket.

"Haul away!" he cried.

And Wyndham hauled away, so that a minute later Paul was again at the brink of the well.

"Found it?" asked Wyndham eagerly.

For answer Paul produced the letter. It was slightly damp, but little the worse otherwise for its immersion.

"Well, you deserve it. I'm jolly glad you've found it."

"I should never have got it hadn't it been for you. It was very good of you to turn back with me, and I hope if at any time I can do you a service, you'll let me know."

The two boys tramped on once more to their destination. Wyndham wished Paul good-night at the entrance to Redmead, his home lying in another direction. It was not long before Paul came in sight of Oakville. It was a fine old country house. A light was shining from its gabled front. By its light Paul could see that there was a man hovering about the house. He could not get a clear glimpse of him, but he was certain, from the man's figure and gait, that it was Brockman, the confederate of Zuker, the German spy. Knowing that Paul must come to the house, he had evidently been on the watch for him.

Now that he had come so far, Paul did not intend being foiled at the last moment. He saw that it was useless trying to enter by the front of the house, so he crept round to the back.

A light was coming from one of the windows. Paul made for this window, and looked through. He was scarcely prepared for what he saw. It was evidently a play-room. There was a large rocking-horse in one corner. A trapeze was slung up in the centre. There were single-sticks and foils on the wall, dumb-bells, Indian-clubs, a parallel-bar, and a vaulting-horse stowed away in another part of the room. But it was not so much these things which attracted the attention of Paul as the occupants of the room. A middle-aged gentleman was kneeling. He was praying aloud. Near him was a lady. On either side of her was a girl and boy—the boy about twelve, the girl a couple of years older. In line with them were a couple of maidservants and a governess. Paul could see that they were at family prayers. He guessed that the gentleman who was praying was Mr. Walter Moncrief, the gentleman he had come in search of by his likeness to his brother.

When they had finished prayers, the lady went to the piano, and the little group joined heartily in a hymn Paul had often heard at school: