“You mean me to get away?” Lessingham exclaimed, bewildered.

“Believe me, it will cost nothing,” Sir Henry assured him.  “I was not bluffing when I told Captain Griffiths that I had supreme authority here.  He knows perfectly well that I am within my rights in aiding your escape.”

Philippa moved swiftly to where Lessingham was standing.  She gave him her hands.

“Dear friend,” she begged, “so wonderful a friend as you have been, don’t refuse this last thing.”

“Be a sensible fellow, Maderstrom,” Sir Henry said.  “Remember that you can’t do yourself or your adopted country a ha’porth of good by playing the Quixote.”

“Besides,” Philippa continued, holding his hands tightly, “it is, after all, only an exchange.  You have saved Henry’s life, set Richard free, and brought us happiness.  Why should you hesitate to accept your own liberty?”

Sir Henry threw open the window and looked towards a green light out at sea.

“There’s your trawler,” he pointed out, “and remember the tide will turn in half an hour.  I don’t wish to hurry you.”

Lessingham raised Philippa’s fingers to his lips.

“I shall think of you both always,” he said simply.  “You are very wonderful people.”

He turned towards the window.  Sir Henry took up the Homburg hat from the table by his side.

“Better take your hat,” he suggested.

Lessingham paused, accepted it, and looked steadfastly at the donor.

“You knew from the first?” he asked.

“From the very first,” Sir Henry assured him.  “Don’t look so confounded,” he went on consolingly.  “Remember that espionage is the only profession in which it is an honour to fail.”

Philippa came a little shyly into her husband’s arms, as he turned back into the room.  The tenderness in his own face, however, and a little catch in his voice, broke down at once the wall of reserve which had grown up between them.

“My dear little woman!” he murmured.  “My little sweetheart!  You don’t know how I’ve ached to explain everything to you—­including the Russian ladies.”

“Explain them at once, sir!” Philippa insisted, pretending to draw her face away for a moment.

“They were the wife and sister-in-law of the Russian Admiral, Draskieff, who was sent over to report upon our method of mine laying,” he told her.

“You and I have to go up to a little dinner they are giving to-morrow or the next day.”

“Oh, dear, what an idiot I was!” Philippa exclaimed ruefully.  “I imagined—­all sorts of things.  But, Henry dear,” she went on, “do you know that we have a great surprise for you—­here in the house?”

“No surprise, dear,” he assured her, shaking his head.  “I knew the very hour that Richard left Wittenberg.  And here he is, by Jove!”

Richard and Helen entered together.  Philippa could not even wait for the conclusion of the hearty but exceedingly British greeting which passed between the two men.