When Tom Thrush returned home alone—Abel declined to accompany him—he found the doors open, the cottage in darkness, the lamp having been blown out, and Jane gone. He called her, searched the cottage, took his lantern and examined the garden. Somebody, a man, had been there. He went out on to the road, traced footsteps along the wall until he came to where the car had stood, then he knew it was Carl Meason who had carried her off and given them the slip.

Lantern in hand he followed the tracks easily seen in the damp dust covering the road. He walked rapidly. When he came to the turning leading to the moat he stopped and wondered what had taken him this way. A feeling of horror swept over him as he thought Meason might have had an object in taking her to the moat. This vanished when he considered he would not know the way in the dark, but how to account for the tire imprints? He followed them; as he neared the moat he listened. Footsteps drawing near, light treading; not a man, perhaps Jane; if so, what had become of Meason?

It was Jane, moving slowly and painfully. He held up the light.

"What are you doing here, lass? Where is he?" asked Tom.

She stumbled upon him, knocking the lantern from his hand. She had fainted. He laid her gently down and picked up the light, holding it to her face. There was a cut on her forehead; he wiped the blood away, saw it was not serious. She came round quickly. He helped her to her feet.

"How came you here?" he asked.

"Carl came to the cottage. He forced me to go with him. He had a car—he meant to kill me—it was his life or mine," she said, shivering.

"Where is he?" asked Tom.

"In the moat."

He was bewildered, did not understand. Jane could not have pushed him into the water.

She explained hurriedly; he listened wonderingly. She was plucky, had run a great risk. He gave no thought to the man.

"I jumped out and fell on the grass. He seemed to lose his head; the car rushed on—I heard nothing more," she said.

"Then he's in the water and the car too?"

"Must be."

"Come home. I'll have a look round in the morning. If he's drowned it's too good for him; he ought to have been hanged. Drowning they say is an easy death."

Jane went to bed and slept the sleep of exhaustion and excitement. She was only a girl and had already gone through startling experiences. Tom, leaving her, went to the moat early. He saw where the car had fallen in; it must have turned upside down and probably Carl was pinned underneath. He felt no compunction; he thought Jane acted rightly. The man was a spy and a villain; she and the country were well rid of him.

When Alan returned he told him what had happened. The matter was reported to the police and to the proper authorities. The moat was searched; it was difficult to drag the car out but it was soon done. Carl Meason's body was found pinned beneath, as Tom anticipated.

The usual inquest was held and strange facts were brought to light. On Meason's body were documents proving he was in the pay of the Germans, and had given much valuable information which was used for raiding purposes.

Jane's conduct was extolled. She would undoubtedly have paid the penalty of betraying his secrets with her life; there was no pity for Carl Meason. He met his death as a traitor; had he been caught he would have undoubtedly been shot.

Jane was searched out and interviewed; Tom made a handsome bargain with the representatives of a Sunday weekly; when she read the account of her life with Carl Meason she was amazed. Had all these things really happened? Was it possible? She pointed out certain extraordinary statements to Tom, saying she did not recollect such things and was quite sure she had told the newspaper man nothing of the sort because they had never happened.

Tom smiled.

"He said he'd write it up, and he has. He's made a good job of it and we've been well paid for it. I think he was entitled to lay it on thick, considering the price paid," he said.

"Did this all really happen to you, Jane?" asked Eve.

"Some of it," replied Jane, smiling.

"And the rest?"

"It is a bit far-fetched; he must have a vivid imagination," said Jane.

Eve laughed.

"You have caused quite a sensation," she said.

Alan went back to general headquarters in France. Eve was as happy as she knew how to be without him, but there was the constant anxiety of what might happen to him.

Alan was not a good correspondent, and he had not much time for writing. Eve knew this and was always glad of a few lines. He came home at intervals for a few days at a time.

Eve loved him and he adored her. Since their marriage he discovered new and surprising traits in her and wondered how he had been so blind as to risk losing her by his delay in asking her to be his wife.

Bernard Hallam and Ella were still at The Forest.

"When am I going back to Australia?" said Mr. Hallam in answer to Alan's question. "I cannot tell you, for I don't know. It's not safe. I have no desire to see how a torpedo works at near quarters. I am much safer here, and The Forest is a delightful place. There's another thing, I want my revenge."

Alan laughed as he said:

"Another couple of races with Rainstorm and Southerly Buster?"

"That's it. They were on a level last time; you only just got home with your pair."

"Bandmaster has probably lost some of his paces," said Alan.

"Didn't look like it when you won the Steeplechase on him," answered
Mr. Hallam.

"By Jove, that must have been a race!" exclaimed Alan.

"It was. Don't you recollect much about it?"

"Can't say I do," replied Alan, with a puzzled expression.

"It's funny; you must have been in a queer state."

"I was. I say, Hallam, I believe I went off my head for a bit," said
Alan.

"I won't contradict you, but the head's all right now," said Mr. Hallam.

Fred Skane was consulted. He thought Bandmaster quite equal to tackling Rainstorm again, and The Duke doing the same by Southerly Buster. Both would be ready for the next Newmarket meeting if the matches could be included in the program.

Alan communicated with the Jockey Club officials and there was no difficulty about it; the former matches proved such an attraction they were sure to be an addition to the card.

In due course the matches came off and on this occasion honors were divided, for Bandmaster beat Rainstorm, and Southerly Buster beat The Duke. Mr. Hallam would have been more pleased had Rainstorm won, for he was his favorite, but Alan was delighted at Bandmaster's success.

Duncan Fraser was a frequent visitor at Trent Park and always went across to The Forest during his stay.

Eve said she was "watching developments," but Alan laughingly answered that, "Fraser is not a marrying man; he's in love with the brewery, which is much more prosaic."

"We shall see," said Eve; "I'm open to support Ella against business."

Captain Newport, invalided home an exchanged prisoner, came to Trent Park for rest and change. He sorely needed it and Eve looked after him well, also Captain Morby, severely wounded, and several more officers. In fact, Trent Park was turned into a convalescent home, with Eve in command. Ella and some friends were willing helpers, and Jane came every day to do what she could for Mrs. Chesney, to whom she was much attached.

Captain Morby said the man who could not make a recovery at Trent Park was very far gone indeed.

"I say, Newport, I owe you a uniform," said Alan, laughing, and told him how he took his in the house of Jean Baptistine.

"A fine old chap," said Vincent. "He did what he could for me; had I been fit he'd have got me away safely."

"I hear the old fellow's had his place blown about his ears but he's still there. I am trying to smuggle him over here. I'll fix up a small farm for him where he can settle down and try and be contented; I think I can manage it."

"That's good of you," said Vincent.

"Not at all; he deserves it, he risked much to try and save me, he did his best," said Alan.

During Alan's absence in France, Eve had plenty to do at home. The wounded officers took up much of her time. When not attending to them, or delegating the duty to others, she went about the home farm, the stables and the gardens, often visiting Sam Kerridge at the Stud, where Alfonso was doing well and most of the mares were still in possession. Alan's racing establishment had been cut down, but this was not to be wondered at, and Fred Skane had an easier time than usual. Many of the lads had joined up, and more were waiting for the call. Alan generously granted them a portion of their salaries during the time they served.

Eve looked longingly forward to the time when Alan would be free again and live always at Trent Park and where children to be born would increase their happiness tenfold. She wrote him long letters, giving all the news and local gossip, also everything concerning their home. Her latest letter roused Alan's interest more than usual.

"You see, I was right," she wrote; "Duncan Fraser asked Ella Hallam to be his wife and she consented. I am sure it is a good match, so is Mr. Hallam, and Ella will be happy. Once upon a time I fancied you admired her, I mean were half in love with her, and I am not quite certain yet that she has forgiven me for snatching you away. We were always meant for each other, Alan; it was our destiny, and in this case it has proved very kind.

"And what do you think? Mr. Hallam wants me to sell The Forest to him in order to give it to Ella as a wedding present. Shall I? Tell me. There are many pleasant associations connected with it—the best, that you asked me to be your wife there."

Then followed news which caused Alan to exclaim:

"By Jove, I am glad! I hope it's a boy."

Eve continued:

"And there's something else, another match. Will Kerridge has asked Jane to be his wife; her second matrimonial venture will not be as stormy as her first.

"We are all well here, and my wounded soldiers simply love the place" ("and their nurses," commented Alan, "lucky beggars!").

"I never pass the steeplechase course but it recalls vividly to mind that never-to-be-forgotten day when you won on Bandmaster—the Rider in Khaki."