"In an hour I shall have finished decoding this dispatch, and I
propose then to take you into my entire confidence. In the meantime, I
want you to go and talk for a few minutes to the cleverest woman in
England, the woman who, in the face of a whole army of policemen and
detectives, crossed the North Sea yesterday afternoon with this in her
pocket."
"You don't mean Maggie?" Nigel exclaimed eagerly.
His uncle nodded.
"You will find her in the boudoir," he said. "I told her that you were
coming. In an hour's time, return here."
Lord Dorminster rose to his feet as his nephew turned to depart. He laid
his hand upon the latter's shoulder, and Nigel always remembered the
grave kindliness of his tone and expression.
"Nigel," he sighed, "I am afraid I shall be putting upon your shoulders
a terrible burden, but there is no one else to whom I can turn."
"There is no one else to whom you ought to turn, sir," the young man
replied simply. "I shall be back in an hour."
CHAPTER II
Lady Maggie Trent, a stepdaughter of the Earl of Dorminster, was one of
those young women who had baffled description for some years before she
had commenced to take life seriously. She was neither fair nor dark,
petite nor tall. No one could ever have called her nondescript, or have
extolled any particular grace of form or feature. Her complexion had
defied the ravages of sun and wind and that moderate indulgence in
cigarettes and cocktails which the youth of her day affected.
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