other enigma which was puzzling.  There was some
distinct object in this policy, but its real nature he was quite unable
to fathom.

That night there was, as usual, a dance in the old banqueting hall, the
high-roofed chamber that had long ago echoed to the boisterous
merrymaking of those armoured knights whose coats of mail now stood
round, and whose tattered banners hung above.  Until half a century
back, the old stone flooring, worn hollow by the tramp of generations of
retainers, still existed, but Dudley's grandfather had had an oak
flooring placed over it, and it now served as the ballroom, even though
at one end was the enormous hearth, where an ox could be roasted whole,
while the wooden benches, at which the banqueters used to hold revel,
served as seats for those who did not dance.

Few of the guests, however, refrained from the waltzing, so delightful
were the attendant circumstances.  Once during the evening Dudley found
himself taking a turn with Claudia.

"I've wanted to speak to you for nearly an hour past," she whispered to
him, so low that none could overhear.  "Some man, apparently an
undesirable person, has called to see you."

"To see me--at this hour?  Why, it's past midnight!" he exclaimed in
astonishment.

"He will not give any details regarding his business," she went on.  "He
only expressed a desire that none of the guests should be aware of his
presence, and that he might have an interview alone with you."

"A rather curious request at this time of night," her companion
observed.  She noticed that he had turned pale, and that the hand
holding hers perceptibly trembled.  Their glances met, and he saw in her
dark and brilliant eyes the love-look of old that was so unmistakable.
Upon her countenance there was a look of concern, and this he strove at
once to dispel by saying airily:

"I suppose it is some one who wants assistance or something.  Where is
he?"

"In your secretary's room.  I had him shown there, in order that his
wish regarding the secrecy of his visit should be respected."

"Th