.

      "Will you?"

      "I dare not," he said with a laugh, as he mounted his horse and rode away. She stood on the steps watching; at the gate he turned and raised his hat, she waved her hand, and with a sigh, went into the house.

      Hannah Moss, at one of the upstairs windows, saw him ride away.

      "Drat the man," she murmured, "why doesn't he marry her; they're made for each other."

      Eve went for a walk after lunch and her way took her to the village of Little Trent. She was popular with the villagers, the lady bountiful of the district, and gave with a liberal hand.

      Abel Head stood outside the Sherwood Inn as she came along, he touched his cap, she stopped.

      "We're having glorious weather," she said. "I suppose you are going to the Derby?"

      "Never miss if I can help," he replied. "What's going to win, Miss

       Berkeley?"

      "Merry Monarch," she answered promptly.

      "No!" exclaimed Abel. "Who told you?"

      "That's a secret," she said laughing.

      "He's at a good price."

      "A hundred to eight."

      "I'll risk a trifle on him," said Abel.

      "Don't back him because I've told you," she said; "he may lose."

      "He belongs to Baron Childs; he's a straight 'un."

      "He's as straight as they make them," said Eve. "How's Richard? Have you heard from him?"

      "Not lately, thank you for asking. I wish he'd not joined the army; he'd have done better to stay here and help me," said Abel.

      "Why did he join?" she asked.

      "Got restless, I suppose and——" he hesitated.

      "And what else?"

      "He was very fond of Jane Thrush," said Abel.

      "And Jane did not give him much encouragement?"

      "That's about the strength of it," said Abel.

      "Jane is devoted to her father," said Eve.

      "No doubt about that, but she'll wed someday, and Dick's not a bad sort," said Abel.

      "He'll make a good soldier, Abel."

      "Perhaps he will; he'll be a fighter, and it looks to me as though there'll be a burst up before long."

      "You think so?"

      "Certain sure I do; there'll be no peace anywhere until the Germans are licked."

      Eve laughed.

      "I understood we were better friends than ever with Germany," she replied.

      "Some folks will tell you that, but don't you believe them, Miss

       Berkeley. They're a nasty spying lot, I'd trust none of 'em," said

       Abel.

      "I hope you are wrong, war is a terrible thing," she said.

      "So it is in a way, but we've been asleep too long, it won't do us any harm to be roused up," said Abel. "There's a man staying at my place I have my doubts about," he said mysteriously.

      "What sort of doubts?" she asked.

      "He goes by the name of Carl Meason, but he's a German, I'm sure of it, and he's a spy," said Abel.

      She looked surprised as she said:

      "What would a German spy find to do in Little Trent?"

      "That's more than I can tell; probably he's spying out the land."

      She laughed.

      "What sort of a man is he?" she asked.

      "Not a bad-looking chap, talks well, but there's something suspicious about him.

      "Does he speak with a foreign accent?"

      "No; speaks English as well as I do," said Abel.

      Eve smiled: Abel's English was at times a trifle weird.

      "Then I'm sure he's not a German if he speaks as well as you, Abel," she said.

      "Now you're chaffing me," he replied.

      "Not at all; I am sure you speak very well."

      "If he's not a German he's a spy of some sort I'm certain. He's always looking at maps, drawing plans, making notes and figuring up things. It's my belief he's hit on Little Trent by chance and came to my place because it's quiet and out of the way. There's something wrong with him; if he's not German he's in the pay of somebody connected with 'em. I'd bet my last bob he's a spy of some sort, and I'll keep my eye on him," said Abel.

      When Abel went into the Inn he found a map spread on the table in the room occupied by Carl Meason. He glanced at it and saw small pins stuck in various places where lines were printed. Putting on his glasses he saw these were road lines and noticed most of them in which the pins were sticking ran from the coast inland; he had no time for further observation, as Meason entered the room.

      "Rather a good map, is it not?" asked the man.

      "Should think so; I don't know much about maps," said Abel. "What's all these pins for?"

      "I am a surveyor. I am going through some of the roads on this map; I shall have to inspect them shortly. I came here to do my work quietly. I daresay you wondered what I was at Little Trent for?" said Carl.

      "I have been wondering," said Abel. "So you're a surveyor?"

      "Yes; I'm considered clever at the work."

      "You're a Government surveyor?" asked Abel.

      "I am."

      "I notice most of the roads you have marked run from the coast inland."

      "That's my division; I am doing this for army purposes."

      "Oh!" exclaimed Abel. "For our Government?"

      Carl Meason looked at him quickly; Abel's face made him smile, he did not look extra sharp.

      "I'm not likely to survey roads for army purposes for any other

       Government," he said.

      "No, I suppose not. It must be interesting work."

      "It is, very; the more you get into this business, the better you like it," said Carl.

      Abel left him bending over the map. When Carl heard the door closed he looked up, a scowl on his face. "Curse the old fool," he muttered. "Wonder why he asked me if it was our Government I was working for?"

      He rolled up the map carefully, ticking the place where he had left the pins in red ink.

CHAPTER IV

       Table of Contents

      THE AUSTRALIAN GIRL

      Derby week, London hummed and bustled with excitement. Sport was in the air, racing; everybody talking about the great event. There were thousands of visitors in the city; it was easy to pick out the strangers.

      Evelyn Berkeley's house overlooked Regent's Park. It was some way out of town, but she found this recompensed by the view, and it was easy to get about in her motor. Alan Chesney called when he arrived in London, before her visitors came.

      Conversation turned on the Derby and the Epsom meeting generally.

      "Merry Monarch is my tip," she said. "I had it from the Baron; he fancies his horse tremendously."

      "It