the quiet man [070-4.5]

By: paula marshall

Synopsis:

Dear Reader When my publishers asked me to consider setting my next
romance in 1899 to celebrate Millennium Year I immediately thought.

What a splendid idea!  I had intended to write a further instalment of The
Schuyler Chronicles about the adventures of a poor relation of the family,
and what could be better than making him the hero of my new novel?  So Alien
Marriott, who concealed his charismatic power behind his reputation as The
Quiet Man, was born.  I was able to show him in the company of Gerard and
Tony Schuyler in their late thirties, now part of the set around the Prince
of Wales, as well as at the other end of society where he is the friend of Mr
Nance, a clock maker and shopkeeper off Piccadilly.  The 1890s were a time of
great change and of great hopes for the future.  My heroine, Trish Courtney,
like many women then, was interested in the possibility of female
emancipation.

It was exciting for me to discover how many of the issues which moved the
nation then were similar to our concerns today.  I feel sure that you will
find as much enjoyment in reading about Alien and his dear Trish as I did
when creating them.

Paula Marshall, married with three children, has had a varied life.

She began her career in a large library and ended it as a senior academic in
charge of history in a polytechnic.  She has travelled widely, has been a
swimming coach, and has appeared on University Challenge and Mastermind.  She
has always wanted to write, and likes her novels to be full of adventure and
humour.  Recent titles by the same author:

MISS JESMOND'S HEIR

THE WOLFE'S MATE

THE DEVIL AND DRUSILLA

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

The author would like to thank the following for their assistance in
providing her with information to make the background to this novel as
authentic as possible.  Any mistakes are her responsibility and not theirs.
Mr Christopher Tarratt of George Tarratt Ltd; Lord Midleton, President of the
British Horological Institute; Major A.  G.  McDonald, Librarian to the
British Horological Institute's Library at Upton, near Southwell; Dr Jonathan
Betts, Curator of Horology of the National Maritime Museum; and the staff of
the Reference Library, Leicester City Libraries.

Prologue New York, 1890 1 his way, Mr Marriott.  Mr Gerard will see you now.
" Alien Marriott, who had been kicking his heels in Mr Gerard Schuyler's
outer office for the last half-hour, rose, frowning, from his uncomfortable
seat.  He was a tall, slim young man, about twenty years old, with
fashionably cut darkish hair, hazel eyes, and a pale, slightly worried face.
He was dressed in impeccable taste.  He looked, apart from the worried face,
exactly like the sort of gentleman who could call cousin that intrepid
international financier Mr Gerard Schuyler, being the son of Mr Gerard's
father's sister, Alicia.  The office he was shown into was tastefully, but
not over-expensively furnished.  The most magnificent thing in it--apart from
Mr Gerard Schuyler--was the oak desk at which he sat.  He was busy writing
when Alien was announced, and continued to do so for some minutes.  He did
not offer Alien a seat, either when his flunky showed him in or when he had
finished writing.  Instead he looked up at his cousin, and said curtly,

"You know why I have sent for you?"

 Overwhelmed by meeting for the first time the man of whose exploits he had
often heard.  Alien simply nodded an answer.  Gerard flung his pen down and
leaned back in his splendid chair.  "Come, come, Mr Marriott, that will not
do.  We must start as we mean to go on.  Yes or no, please."

"Yes."   Alien knew that he was being sullen, but he could not stop himself.
The errand on which he was engaged was so supremely distasteful to him--but
so necessary--that he could barely speak.   "In that case, I would ask you to
detail the circumstances to me."   "Why?"

Alien blurted the question at Gerard before he could stop himself.

"You know perfectly well why I am here."

"Is it your habit to answer a question with another?   If it is, it's a bad
one.   Yes, I know why you are here.   Do you?   Tell me--or you may consider
this interview closed.

The door is over there.  " Alien gritted his teeth, and said, as civilly as
he could,

"I am here because when my father, Cornelius Marriott, died my mother and I
discovered that he was bankrupt, and that we should have to leave our home
immediately.  Which we did.  We are now lodged in a poor hotel in Queens,
which we can only afford because my mother, illegally, smuggled two pieces of
her jewellery out of the house when we left it."  He did not need to tell
Gerard that they had been living on Fifth Avenue in one of New York's most
palatial mansions--now up for sale.  "Fortunately I had just finished my
education at Yale, having gone there two years early, but I have no immediate
means of earning a living sufficient to keep my mother and me in even
moderate comfort.  Consequently she wrote to your and my grandfather,
Ghysbrecht Schuyler, the Captain, for financial assistance to tide us over."
He stopped and looked out of the window before resuming.  "The Captain has a
reputation for being a hard man, and he lived up to it.  He wrote to my
mother saying that she had made her own bed and must lie on it.  Her dowry
when she married my father had been a magnificent one, and on top of that her
husband had inherited three million dollars when his own father died.  That
he had chosen to squander his fortune on failed financial dealings, drink,
gambling and other women was no fault of his father-in-law's, and
consequently he saw no reason to assist us."  He stopped again.  Gerard said,
his voice pleasant,

"Go on--and remember that I am a hard man, too."

"My mother then wrote to you to ask for help, reminding you of old family
ties, and you wrote back saying that if we needed any assistance I was to
present myself at your office today and you would see what you could do for
us."   "Admirably lucid.   Couldn't have put it better myself.   What would
you do in my position?"   Alien stared at him.

He felt sick and ill.  A fortnight ago his whole world had crumbled about
him.  He had come down from Yale where, despite his youth, he had had a
distinguished academic career as a scientist and mathematician determined to
investigate the meaning and workings of time.  The Cornelius Marriott who had
settled in America in the early eighteenth century had been a bankrupt clock-
maker who had set up in business in Boston, made himself a small fortune and
enhanced it by marrying into the then rich De Lancey family.  Every
subsequent Marriott--until his wastrel father, Cornelius--had enhanced it
further; clock making had been left long behind.  Alien had found the first
Cornelius's notebooks, and had become an amateur clock maker and repairer in
his spare time.  Once his university career was over he had promised himself
that he would set up his own laboratory and carry out the experiments he had
been dreaming of ever since he was a boy.  That dream was dead and he was
reduced to begging for help from the hard man before him.  He was aware that
Gerard was waiting for an answer to his question.  He decided to be
honest--and damn the consequences.  "I don't know.  I can't imagine myself in
your position."  Well, that should have dished any chances of help from
Gerard, and no mistake.  Gerard sat up and made a note on a piece of paper.
"I like that.  An honest answer.  Let me tell you what I propose to do--and
then you must decide for yourself whether you will agree to it.  It's this.
I am prepared to settle an annuity on your mother which will keep her in
comfort.  Unlike my grandfather I am not prepared to see a Schuyler starve.
There is a condition: that you will take up the position of junior clerk in
my office here in New York.

That will enable you not to starve.  Your mother's annuity is conditional on
that and on your continued employment.  " " But.  " began Alien.  " I have
been expensively educated at Yale.  " He stopped at the expression on
Gerard's face.  " For what practical end?  " said his cousin dryly.  How
could he answer that?  He remained mute for a moment.

Gerard added,

"Do I take that to be a refusal?"

"N ... no," said Alien, almost stuttering at the prospect of starvation
rising before his face again.   After all, what had his education fitted him
for in the real world in which most people lived?   "No, I accept.   Of
course I accept.

I would be a fool not to.  "

"Agreed.  There is, however, another condition.  I know that your name is
Alien Schuyler Marriott.  You will drop the Schuyler and you will not reveal
that you are related to me--or any of the Schuyler family.

That is all.  " " Yes, I understand.  I shall be only too happy to obey you.
" If there was a double meaning in his answer Gerard chose to ignore it.  He
handed a piece of paper to Alien, who took it nervelessly.  At least his
mother's troubles were over--his were just beginning.  " You will arrive for
duty tomorrow morning at seven of the clock and give your name to the
receptionist at the desk in the front hall of this building.  She will tell
you to whom to report, and you will hand him this paper.  I know that he has
a vacancy in the counting house downstairs.  You have done some maths at
Yale, I understand, which should mean that the post should not present you
with any difficulties.  Do your duties well and diligently and you will have
the prospect of advancement.  "I bid you good day."  It was the signal for
him to leave.  He began to utter a belated thank-you, but Gerard said, white
teeth flashing,

"Thank me if you survive.  I am taking a chance in thinking that you
will--for, after all, your pedigree is suspect.  I don't believe in visiting
the sins of the fathers on the sons, but a wise man is always cautious.  I
was harsh with you at the beginning of this interview in order to discover
whether you could survive in a world where you will be an unconsidered
subordinate who will have to do as he is told--and quickly."

 "Oh, yes, sir," said Alien submissively.

"I quite understand."

"Good--you know the way out, I believe."   Outside, in the corridor.   Alien
leaned his head against the wall, trying to collect himself enough to face a
future far different from the one he had always dreamed of.   Somehow he
would succeed--and some day he would repay Gerard Schuyler for today's
humiliating interview, come what may.

Chapter One London, Spring, 1899 1 he London train had been making peculiar
noises, but then trains often did.  Alien Marriott, who had been holidaying
in Stratford-upon-Avon, but had decided to return to London a few days early,
was far too busy worrying about his future to worry about a train's funny
noises.  Five years ago he had been rewarded for his dedication and his
diligence by being transferred to Schuyler Incorporated's London office as a
junior clerk.  Once settled in London he had succeeded again, to the degree
that he had been made the chief clerk's second-in-command.  After one piece
of work which had necessitated him cooperating with the prestigious
Rothschild's firm, Rothschild's had offered him a post at a greatly increased
salary which would enable him to support his mother.  Inasmuch as he could
ever be happy--for he had become a lonely soul--he had been happy in his
London work, and the temptation to rid himself of his last Schuyler ties was
great.  In the beginning he had dreamed of revenge, of making Gerard Schuyler
pay for having sentenced him to a life  of servitude, but that dream now
seemed childish, the delusions of a spoilt boy.  Once such a splendid offer
to leave Schuyler's would have had him out of the front door in no time, but
that desire was nearly as long gone as the fortune which his father had
squandered.  To his surprise he felt a strange compunction about leaving.  He
had kept his promise to Gerard and no one knew that he and the head of the
company were cousins.  He had asked Rothschild's for time to consider their
offer, but that time was now running out.  He needed to make a decision soon.
The train was halfway between Banbury and Oxford, and he was almost asleep
after the effort of trying to make up his mind what to do, when the whole
world turned upside down in a great burst of grinding sound.  Dazed with
shock, assailed by ever-increasing noise, scarcely believing what was
happening to him.  Alien was hurled from side to side of the small
compartment.  Finally, the noise and movement subsided, and he landed on the
floor across his own valise with a thump which nearly drove the breath from
his body, so that for a moment he lay there winded, unable to move.  His head
had ended up among the dust under the opposite seat.  Dust, indeed, had
settled everywhere.  At first he was too dazed to understand what must have
happened, until, in the silence which seemed to be even more menacing than
the hideous noise which had preceded it, common sense told him that the train
must have crashed.  His right hand was grasping someone's foot--presumably
that of the elderly gentleman who had been sitting opposite to him.

Nauseated, and a victim of shock, Alien at last summoned up sufficient
resolution to sit up, to look around him and try to find out how serious the
accident was.  He soon discovered that it must be very serious indeed, for
the coach was lying on its side.  On his right the compartment's door and
windows were consequently at an odd angle, giving him only a view of blue sky
and clouds.  On his left there was no view at all.  The old gentleman was
lying with his back to the door.  He was unconscious, but was still
breathing.  Alien crawled towards him, took his pulse and discovered it to be
strong.  He decided that he could be safely left where he was for the time
being.  Because of the coach's untoward position, standing up proved
difficult, but he managed to struggle to the window and look out of it.  The
view was limited, but he could see enough to confirm that the train had met
its accident on a high embankment above open country.

There was nothing for it but to open the door and risk jumping down.  It took
yet another struggle to force the door open, and a great deal of blind faith
that he would not permanently injure himself before he jumped out and down on
to the track.  He landed heavily, but fortunately suffered no injury beyond a
few more knocks and bruising--unlike the train, which he discovered had been
completely wrecked.  He was standing alone on the embankment down which the
locomotive had plunged, taking its coaches with it, to lie like a wounded
snake, leaving only the last one, in which he had been travelling, with some
connection to the railway lines.  Smoke and steam were rising from the
locomotive, but the eeriest thing about the whole dreadful business was the
dead silence which had fallen on the scene.

Alien began to wonder whether the blind chance of his being in the last coach
had left him and the old gentleman the only passengers alive.

Looking around, he saw that a road ran alongside the field below the
embankment.  Cows stolidly chewed the grass beyond.  Overhead, birds turned
and wheeled merrily,  ignoring what had happened beneath them.  Gradually,
noise and life returned to the wrecked train.  A man in one of the coaches
halfway down the embankment had his head out of the door and was calling to
him for help in opening it.  The acute angle at which the coach lay was
making this difficult.  Alien slithered down the slope to help him, then
found that once the door was open the man was so weak that he had to pull him
out and lie him down on the narrow patch of grass which bordered the track.
Shock still had the man in its grip.  He remained passive for some moments,
breathing hard, blood trickling gently down from a cut on his temple.  Alien
pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and tried to stanch it before the man
sat up and gasped at Alien,

"I am a doctor.  Are you hurt?"  Alien gave him the handkerchief to hold to
his head.  He shook his own head, saying,

"Miraculously, no.

But I think that the other passenger in my compartment may be.  I'll try to
haul him out if I can get in again.  " The doctor, not forgetting his manners
even though the heavens had fallen, introduced himself.

"My name is French.  When I feel a little better I'll go back in and try to
recover my bag.  There are sure to be survivors whom I can help, although I
fear that many may be trapped."

"Indeed," said Alien.   "It occurs to me that it could be useful to discover
if the guard is still living--he might be able to tell us what to do.   I
doubt whether he will know anything, but we ought at least to try to find
him.   Do you feel fit enough for me to leave you?"   French assured him that
he was.

Alien ran back to the guard's van, where he found the guard lying half-in and
half-out of it, unconscious.  His leg was doubled up beneath him, obviously
broken.  Alien debated whether or not to move him, but decided that it might
be unwise.  Instead he took off his jacket, rolled it up and put it under the
guard's head before leaving him to return to his compartment to see whether
it would be possible to help the old gentleman to safety.  By now a few men
and one woman had struggled out of the wreck, either to stand, dazed, or to
sit or lie, shocked, on the grass.  These, Alien guessed, were the relatively
uninjured ones; the heavily injured were lying trapped unconscious, or
semi-conscious, in the wreckage.  He tried not to think of the dead who were
there too.  Others would have to worry about them: his concern was with the
living.  Getting back into the compartment was no easier than climbing out of
it had been.  After falling over the valise containing his overnight gear he
threw it out of the open door, before a low moan told him that his travelling
companion was conscious, but had not moved.  He-was still huddled against the
far door.  When Alien bent down to speak to him, he croaked in a puzzled
voice,

"What on earth has happened?"

"The train has been derailed," Alien told him.   He had originally concluded
that the old gentleman was more shocked than injured, but when he turned his
head to speak again Alien could see that the whole left side of his face was
heavily bruised and bleeding.   Like the doctor he had a wound on his temple,
and it was also possible that he had other, unseen injuries.

"If I were to help you," Alien said gently, 'do you think that we could get
you out of the carriage and into the open?  I'm very much afraid that the
train is lying at such an angle that it isn't safe to remain in it.  " " I
think so," came the muttered answer.  With a great deal of difficulty, and an
occasional cry of pain from the old gentleman before he lapsed into
unconsciousness again.  Alien succeeded in getting him out and on to the
grass.  The doctor, who had recovered his bag from the train, came over to
where he lay and shook his head at Alien after he had examined him.  " I
think his collarbone is broken," he whispered.  " All I can do is try to make
him comfortable.  " " The guard is unconscious," Alien told him, 'and quite
badly injured, so there's no help for us there.  We are on our own, I fear,
until someone further along the line realises that the train is hopelessly
late.  Until then it's up to us."  In later years, looking back at his
memories of it, and what came after.  Alien would realise that the accident
to the train had been responsible for changing his whole life.  At the time,
though, he was only aware of a desperate desire to rescue as many as possible.

He and the doctor were not to be alone for long.  Others had struggled out of
the train, eventually to join them in their life-saving efforts.

It was Alien who organised the survivors into teams, to ensure that the
efforts of the rescuers were coordinated, not haphazard.  During his
difficult apprenticeship he had learned that he had inherited much of the
Schuyler powers of management and control, although he had found few
opportunities to use them.  Now he found himself directing operations as
though he had done so all his life.  It was Alien, too, who took the most
risks, clambering onto the locomotive and half into the cab to discover the
train driver's dead body.  He shuddered afterwards at the thought of what he
had done, although at the time it seemed normal and right.  The fireman had
been thrown clear, and later on he was found lying by the track, badly
injured and unconscious.  His injuries, indeed, were severe, and he had no
memories of the crash or what had preceded it.  A little later on, ignoring
the exhaustion which threatened to overwhelm him.  Alien climbed into one of
the first class coaches at the front of the train.  He had heard a woman's
voice calling for help from it: a voice which was perfectly controlled, not
desperate.

 Once inside.  Alien found himself looking down at just about the prettiest
young woman he had ever seen.  She was seated with her back against the far
door, cradling an unconscious girl in her arms.  Her great violet eyes looked
up at him out of an ashen face distinguished by its classic features.  Her
long and lustrous black hair had come down and her expensive travelling
costume had a great tear in its right sleeve.  Like him, she had somehow
survived the crash without suffering any major injury.  "Please," she said to
him, as calmly and politely as though she were addressing him in a society
drawing room, 'can you get Hetty out soon?  She's badly injured and I'm
afraid that she might die.

There's a poor woman opposite who I think was killed when the accident
happened.  Some luggage from the overhead rack fell on her head.  But those
still living, like Hetty, must come before the dead, mustn't they?  " Her
composure was remarkable.  Alien thought, for someone in her very early
twenties.  The only evidence of shock was her trembling mouth, which betrayed
the strength of the resolute will which was keeping her steady.  " I'll do
what I can," he told her, 'but it may take a little time."  He called up to
those who stood by the door and who were ready to assist him to haul out
anyone who wasn't trapped.

"There are two in here we can do something for.  I'll try to get them up to
you as soon as possible."  First he examined the woman lying on the floor, to
discover that the girl had told him no less than the truth: he could do
nothing for her.  It was time to look after the living.  He immediately found
that the girl was prepared to help him as much as she could.  Between them
they managed to lift the unconscious Hetty up to where the rescue team was
waiting.  After that it was the girl's turn, and finally Alien himself
clambered out.  She was waiting for him, refusing to sit on the grass, or to
allow a sturdy woman, a qualified nurse who had been rescued earlier, to
examine her until she had thanked him.  The doctor was looking after Hetty.
"It was very brave of you," she told him solemnly.  "I cannot thank you
enough for what you did for Hetty, my maid, and me."

 "It was my duty,"

he said, bowing.  Now that she was in the open he could see at once that she
bore all the signs of great wealth and great position.  Her clothing, her
carriage, everything about her bore the stamp of her class.  What was unique
to her was her courage.  "It was more than that, I think," she said
spiritedly.  "You put yourself at risk for me--and for many others, I am
told."  Alien was about to disclaim any credit again when there came a
grinding noise from behind him.  The train, that mechanical snake, moved and
writhed as though it were truly alive, falling even further down the
embankment after such a fashion that the last coaches crushed still more
those which had originally been ahead of them--among them that from which he
had lifted Hetty and her mistress.  Dust arose from it in a great cloud.
"You see," she said to him, almost reproachfully, 'you did put yourself in
great danger.  Suppose that that had occurred after you had climbed in to our
compartment--what would have happened to you then?  " " Fortunately for the
three of us," he replied, 'it didn't."

"It doesn't lessen your courage," she told him earnestly.   "I can never
forget that I owe you my life, nor will Hetty when I tell her."   "Hear,
hear," said another of the passengers whom Alien had pulled from the
wreckage, and who had later joined one of the teams of rescuers he had
organised.   "There are many of us who owe our lives to him and to the
doctor.   A Yankee, aren't you, sir, by your voice?"   He was about to say
more when far below them, on the road beyond the embankment, two men on
bicycles appeared.   They were wearing the navy blue uniform of railway
workers.   Dr French said, cheerful for the first time,

"Ah, the sheriff's posse has arrived--from the next station up the line, one
supposes.  The signalman, once he realised that the train had never reached
him, must have notified them.

I expect that the police and the fire brigade will be here next.  And
ambulances, of course, from Oxford or Banbury.  Our work is almost over.  "
Alien nodded.  He was holding exhaustion at bay by an act of will, but he
knew that there was one thing which he needed to do, and that quickly.  He
had no intention of staying once professional help had arrived.  Nor was he
prepared to reveal his name.  From what he had overheard while moving among
the rescued he was going to be celebrated as the hero of the train crash, and
would probably end up on the front page of various newspapers.  Were that to
happen it would almost inevitably result in his relationship with the
Schuylers being discovered, and he not only intended to keep his promise to
Gerard, he had no wish for publicity for himself.  It was true what the
doctor had said: their work was almost over.  Before the professionals
arrived he would slip away as quickly and as secretly as he could, which
ought not to be too difficult in the confusion which would follow.  He could
then strike out across country until he came to a village from which he could
arrange his journey back to London.  He had already hidden his valise beneath
a bush on the embankment, from where he could quickly recover it before he
disappeared.  His one regret was to leave behind the gallant young woman
whom he had rescued without learning who she was.  She would remain forever a
ship which had passed him in the night, never to be seen again, but there was
no help for it.  After all, he had spent his adult life sacrificing himself
for his mother; this was only one more in a long line, and certainly not the
greatest.  Or so he told himself when he slithered down the embankment again,
picked up his valise and began his journey back to London.  Nevertheless,
among his many memories of the accident, both good and bad, the one which was
perhaps the most poignant of all was his first sight of the beautiful violet
eyes which had gazed up at him so bravely.

Chapter Two Oh, my dear," exclaimed Ton-y, now Lady Schuyler, for her
husband, Gerard, had been knighted for his services to Anglo-American
co-operation soon after he had become a British citizen, 'what a terrible
thing to have happened.  To be caught in a serious train accident.  Thank God
that you are safe, but poor Hetty!  The only consolation is that the doctors
say that she will soon recover and be able to live a normal life again."
Patricia

"Trish' Courtney, Alien's 'girl with the violet eyes'--the name by which she
still lived on in his memory--had just arrived at the Schuylers' Park Lane
mansion.  She had been detained overnight in hospital at Oxford until they
were satisfied that she was fit to travel home.  For the last four years she
had been the Schuylers' ward.  Her widowed mother, whose husband had been a
great friend of Gerard's, had asked him to be her guardian shortly before she
had died of a mysterious wasting sickness.  Trish's father had left her money
tied up in a trust, only to be inherited when she reached the age of
twenty-five.  Gerard was its Chief Trustee.

Consequently, for him to look after Trish had seemed to be both right and
proper.  This was a particularly sensible arrangement since Trish's only
other near relative was an elderly great-aunt who had been relieved to have
the girl taken off her hands.  Tony had been living in an agony of anxiety
ever since the news had broken that the train on which Trish had been
travelling had been involved in a serious accident which had resulted in many
deaths.  Trish had telephoned them late the previous night to assure them
that she was unharmed but that poor Hetty had not been so lucky.  "Oh, I have
so much to tell you," she had said at last, 'but it will be better told face
to face.  " She had arrived home to be greeted with as much love and
affection as Tony would have given to her own daughter.  They were now in the
drawing room, drinking tea and waiting for Gerard to come home.  " I do hope
that you weren't too distressed by such a dreadful experience," Tony was
saying anxiously.

"I have no right to be distressed," Trish told her, 'for I have survived
unharmed where many didn't.  And the reason for that was a young man to whom
I shall always feel the deepest gratitude.  In order to save us he risked his
life by climbing into the coach where Hetty and I were trapped.  We are not
the only ones who owe their life to him.  I thanked him at the time, of
course, but it grieves me that I do not know his name and that I can't write
to him to tell him that Hetty is not too badly injured.  " " Was that the
young man whom the newspapers are calling the "mystery hero of the
Oxfordshire train wreck," who disappeared shortly before the fire brigade and
the police arrived?  "

"Yes, dear Tony.  He truly did save us, because almost immediately after he
lifted us out the coach we had been trapped in was crushed when the train
moved again.  Most of those who were unfortunate enough to be killed were in
it."

"You have no notion of who he might have been?"

"No, and nor had anyone else when the police questioned us about him.   It
seems that he was travelling alone.   He had a slight American accent
something like yours as though he had lost it a little by living in England
for some time, and was obviously a gentleman by his clothes and manners.   I
told the police that, and the other passengers agreed with me."   She sighed,
and leaned back against the sofa cushions.   Her extreme pallor and the
shadows beneath her lovely eyes were the only signs of her recent ordeal.
"He was a handsome young man?"   ventured Torry shrewdly.   "Yes, though of
course he was very much knocked about -not only because of the accident, but
because of his clambering in and out of the train to rescue people.   The
other passengers told me that before he saved me and Hetty he had even
climbed into the locomotive to see if he could do anything for the driver,
but the poor man had been killed instantly."

Torry did not say aloud that the young man, whoever he was, seemed to have
made more impression on Trish than the many young men who had besieged her
since she had arrived in London and become a prominent member of high
society.  She had refused all offers of marriage from them, saying more than
once,

"Oh, it's only my money they're after, not me."  A judgement with which both
Sir Gerard and Lady Schuyler had ruefully agreed.  One of their worries had
been that the beautiful heiress in their charge might become the victim of
one of the unscrupulous fortune-hunters who were society's plague, but there
seemed to be no danger of that happening.  It had taken an unknown man whom
she most likely might never meet again to arouse her interest in the
opposite sex!

Terry's questioning of Trish was ended by Gerard's arrival.  Like his wife,
he was relieved to learn that she had taken no real harm from her unwanted
adventure.  "And you met the mystery man--as the newspapers call him?"  he
asked her.  "Oh, yes, he saved me, as I have been telling Torry."

 "From what I hear he deserves all the praise heaped upon him,"

said Gerard, after listening carefully to Trish's tale.  "Highly resourceful
also, I gather, from what you say.  I could do with him now that my secretary
has chosen to leave me."

 "Hall?   Hall is going?"

queried Torry.  "That must be a blow after you have had him so long."

"Indeed, I shall scarcely be as lucky again.  I am allowing him to retire
without notice since he has inherited a small estate.  All in all it has been
a most vexatious day.  I spent the afternoon with a pompous flunky of a
senior civil servant who is exercised over this business of when the next
century begins.  Everyone is assuming that the date will be the first of
January, 1900, but he has been taking quite seriously the proposal that it
will really begin on the first of January, 1901!  " He wanted to know what
the business world's opinion of the matter was.  I scarcely knew how to
answer him.  What I really wanted to say was that the only persons who can be
troubled about such a thing are those who have nothing better to think about!
That fellow Austin, in the Illustrated London News last December, had the
right of it when he said that they were having a severe fit of arithmetic--'
Torry broke into Gerard's typically headlong oration, much as Trish had heard
her do before, by saying in a teasing voice,

"Really, Gerard, you will have a fit yourself if you don't calm down.  Do
drink your tea.  The last thing poor Trish wants at the moment is any more
excitement."

"Sorry, my dears," said Gerard with a grin.   "But when I think of the
number of our rulers concerning themselves with such nonsense I can't help
thinking that it explains why they are making such a mess of things in South
Africa.

They have their priorities jumbled.  " " Well, Trish and I are with you
there.  And your main priority is replacing Hall immediately, not with
lamenting the shortcomings of the government--I have heard quite enough about
that from you lately.  " " True.  I have asked Cope, my chief clerk in the
City house, to send me his best man to act as a stopgap until I have time to
waste on finding a permanent secretary.  Being an MP as well as a businessman
leaves me with little of it to spare.  " It was Trish's turn to tease him.  "
But you wouldn't have it otherwise, would you, Gerard?  I can't imagine that
doing nothing but sit around being a fine gentleman would ever please you.
Both Tony and I would think that you were sickening for something if you
weren't always on the go.  "

Laughing, Gerard rolled his eyes heavenwards.  "Was ever a man so plagued by
his women?  Do neither of you have any respect for me?  I pity your poor
husband when you come to marry, Trish, you have had enough lessons from Torry
on how to put a man in his place to keep him in order."

"And so many lessons on how to make his life comfortable while I do."   "And
that is true also.   No pleasure without pain, eh, Torry?"   Trish, watching
them, wondered whether she would be lucky enough to have such a happy
marriage as Gerard and Torry's was, where love and mutual respect ran hand in
hand--something rare in the society in which they lived.

For a fleeting moment she thought of the young man who had lifted her to
safety and wondered whether he might, if she ever met him again, give her the
loving kindness which that stern buccaneer, Gerard, had brought to his
marriage with Torry.  Not that she was likely to meet him again.  "Alien!
When your trunk arrived back two days ago I had not thought to see you back
as early as this.  And until your telephone call late last night I was a
trifle worried about your non-appearance yesterday.  I was afraid that you
might have taken harm in that dreadful accident to the Birmingham London
train which has been filling the papers for the last two days."

 "Oh," said Alien carelessly,

"I came home on another line."  He acknowledged to himself that this was not
a total lie, for he had, indeed, done just that after he had left the scene
of the accident and spent the night in a little inn in the country.  "You
look very tired, though," said Mr Nance.  "Do sit down.

Shall I make you a.  cup of tea--or would you like something stronger?  "

"That would be kind," Alien returned.  "Tea and brandy, perhaps."  He sank
into an armchair by the small fire burning in the grate of Mr Nance's living
room at the back of his shop which was situated in a street off Piccadilly.
Mr Nance was a clock maker and repairer of Huguenot origin.  His family name
had been Nantes, but when his remote ancestor had arrived in London in the
late seventeenth century, after escaping from the persecution to which the
Huguenots, being Protestant, had been subjected in France, the locals had
mispronounced and misspelled it Nance.  The family had not corrected them:
Nance they had been rechristened and Nance they had remained.

He was an old man who had lost his wife and young child in one of the fevers
which were endemic in London's summer and had never remarried.

Five years ago Alien, who had just arrived in London and had still been
living in temporary quarters in a small and dingy hotel, had walked into his
shop.  A clock in the window had caught his attention.  It had reminded him
of one which was a family heirloom and had reputedly been made by Cornelius
Marriott, the original emigrant from England.  They could not have been more
unalike, the tall and sturdy young man--Alien had filled out and matured
since that dreadful interview with Gerard--and the small, slight old man with
his white hair and gold-rimmed spectacles.  His shop was not a large one, but
it was full of clocks and of sound: tickings, tockings and chiming bells.
"Good morning, sir, what may I do for you?"  Mr Nance had asked.  "I should
like to take a look at the small carriage clock in your window, if I may.  I
am interested in its origin."

"Certainly, sir, it is a rare piece.   One moment and I will get it for
you."   Rare it was, and the young man and the old one inspected it
reverently, the old man gaining a growing respect for the young man's
knowledge of his craft.   "Have you any notion who made it?"   Alien asked.
"I believe it to be from the workshop of a man called Marriott, who shortly
afterwards went bankrupt and emigrated in the mid-eighteenth century to
settle in Boston and start a business there.   Not much of his survives
here."   "But a lot does in the States," smiled Alien, 'where I have seen one
very like it.

He was by way of being my great- great-something or other.  " " Was he
indeed?  " Mr Nance's respect grew.  " And you are in the business, too?  "

"No, no," said Alien.  "I am merely an amateur.  I am a clerk with a City
business house, but I am interested in horology.  I have been less than a
month in London and already I have encountered a souvenir of my ancestor.  If
you will suggest a price I shall consider buying it."

"In a moment," said Mr Nance.   "I was about to shut the shop in order to
have my afternoon cup of tea.   Would a visiting American care to share it
with me?   I rarely meet a young man who is so knowledgeable."   "With
pleasure," said Alien, who had been feeling lonely since he had left the boat
at Liverpool.   He found himself in a small cosy room, full of clocks and
bric-a-brac and books, being waited on by the kind of bustling servant he had
thought only lived in Dickens's novels.   The tea and scones were excellent.
He and Mr Nance conversed eagerly on clocks and time and the fables relating
to the ends of centuries.   Alien revealed that he was looking for rooms and
Mr Nance immediately offered him most of his first floor--'until you find
something better.   " Alien bought the clock, accepted the offer--and was
never to find anything better.   Mr Nance gained a son to replace the one he
had lost, and Alien, at last, found a father and a home, since they lived,
ate and talked together.   The loneliness which had dogged his life since he
had become a clerk at Schuyler's disappeared.   Mr Nance was a member of the
Literary and Philosophical Society and introduced Alien to it, where he soon
proved himself to be a valued member.   More than that, Alien became his
assistant in his spare time, and Mr Nance, who was the last of his line, had
dreams that his semi adopted son might carry on the work of the shop which
Philippe Nantes had founded long ago.   " And your holiday is over already?
" enquired Mr Nance now.   " I was lonely, and I had seen all that I wished
to.   It's back to work on Monday for me," said Alien, stretching a little.

"Back to the grindstone."

"You know what I have offered you," his friend said.   "Whenever you wish
you could take over the shop.   I am growing old.   My offer was not made
lightly."   "I know," said Alien.

"Your kindness overwhelms me."  He paused before saying,

"While I was away I decided that I would give Schuyler's another six months
and if I were no happier at the end of it, then I would reconsider your
offer."  He had no idea why he was hesitating.  He loved the work of the
shop, but always at the back of his mind, like the earlier Marriotts, he
thought that somewhere, somehow, there might be something more for him than
that.  What, he did not know.  It was not that he did not wish to become a
shopkeeper, but if he did it would take away his last hopes of accomplishing
something in the world--the hopes which his father's folly had destroyed.
Perhaps the offer from Rothschild's might do that--if he accepted it.  Alien
was still thinking about these two contrary offers when he returned to work
on Monday morning, when he was told that Mr Cope had left word that he was to
report to his office immediately on arriving.  He found his superior at his
desk, surrounded by files and writing busily.  He did not look up until Alien
coughed and stared at the ceiling.  "Oh, there you are, Marriott.  I trust
that you had a restful vacation.  I assume that you were not involved in that
dreadful railway accident the other day."

"Very restful," Alien answered, dodging the last sentence neatly.   He need
not have troubled himself for his superior roared on without listening to
him.   "Good.

Excellent.  You will be ready, then, for what I have in mind for you.

"It is this.  Sir Gerard Schuyler's secretary has resigned and he wishes me
to send him my best and most reliable man as a temporary replacement.  You,
Marriott, are undoubtedly my best and most reliable man, so I am sending you
to him.  I shall be sorry to lose you but you deserve the chance of better
things.  Work as well as I know that you can and I would not be surprised to
learn that your appointment will be more than temporary.  " You will, of
course, be required to live at Park Lane, and be one of the staff there.  You
are of gentlemanly appearance and behaviour.  I have no fear that you will
not fit in.  "Well?"  Alien stared at him.  Work for Gerard, his cousin?

Did he wish to?  He could almost have laughed aloud.  "I have a question for
you, sir," he came out with at last.  Mr Cope was tapping his chin with his
pencil, wondering why Marriott was not immediately leaping forward to accept
this splendid offer.  "Yes, well, what is it?"

 "Have you informed Sir Gerard of whom you propose to send to him?"

"What an extraordinary question, Marriott!  I cannot see its relevance to
what I have just told you.  But, no, he left the matter with me.  He is, as
you know, a very busy man.  He said that he trusted my judgement."  He
paused, meaningfully.  "Implicitly."  For the first time since he had arrived
from the States Alien favoured him with a broad grin, although for the life
of him Mr Cope could see no humour in the situation.  "In that case," said
Alien, forgetting his role as humble and subservient Marriott for a moment,

"I accept."  And if he sends me back, he told himself, wanting no part of me,
then I shall leave Schuyler's and either go to Rothschild's or take up Mr
Nance's offer.

What a turn-up for the book this is, though, when suddenly everyone wants
unknown and hitherto disregarded Mr Alien Marriott!  "Good.  You would have
been a fool to have refused such a splendid opportunity, but I suppose you
know that.  You are to report to Sir Gerard at his Park Lane home tomorrow
morning at nine o'clock.  Clear your desk before you leave this evening, and
collect from me your letter of recommendation to him.

"Good luck, Marriott, don't let me down.  Make the most of this splendid
opportunity; you may not get another."  He held out his hand to Alien, who
was still smiling, baffling Mr Cope even further.  Alien was wondering what
his cousin Gerard's reaction would be when he presented himself in the
morning as Cope's 'best and most reliable man'!  "Gerard can't come with us
this morning after all," Torry told Trish.  They were seated in the carriage,
about to leave for a reception and luncheon given by the Committee for the
Welfare of Poor Women, of which Torry was a valued member.  A number of men
prominent in public life had been invited in order to persuade them to make a
donation to the cause.  "Not having Hall to remind him, he had forgotten that
he was due to accompany us and had arranged with his City office to interview
his new secretary after breakfast.  He has promised faithfully to arrive in
time for lunch and use his influence to persuade some of the more tightfisted
to " cough up," as he puts it.  I sometimes wonder whether I shall ever
civilise Gerard completely, but I have to admit that I like him halfway
there, so to speak.  Most civilised men often seem to be effete!"  Gerard,
seated in his office, was congratulating himself that he had managed to avoid
the boring part of the morning.

One of the drawbacks of being an MP was having to appear cheerful and
interested at a variety of functions which he would not willingly have chosen
to attend.  He had genuinely forgotten this one, and had debated telephoning
his City headquarters and ordering them to delay sending their man for a day,
but it was being without a secretary which had caused this mix-up and the
sooner one was in post the better.  Downstairs in the entrance hall, a room
far larger than the entire ground floor of Mr Nance's home.  Alien stood
waiting for the butler to return.  There was a long, gilt- framed mirror on
one wall and he could see himself in it.  He was wearing his best black
jacket and black and white pinstriped trousers.  His linen was spotless, as
were his stiff and glossy collar and cuffs.  His black silk stock was modest,
as befitted his station.  He was carrying a small leather briefcase in one
hand and his top hat and gloves in the other.  The man who wore them was
quite unlike the one whom Gerard had interviewed nine years ago.  Time,
hardship and the experience of fending for himself had changed him
completely.  He was no longer thin and pallid, but had the strong, muscular
body and bronzed face which was not only typical of the Schuylers, but of his
own ancestors.  He held himself well, and his confidence was not the empty
pride of an untried young man, but that of someone who had learned to respect
others as well as himself.  He even found himself wondering whether Gerard
would recognise him.  He had seen his cousin several times, both in New York
and again in London when he had walked through the office.

Cope and his previous secretary in tow, but he could not recall Gerard having
glanced even once in his direction.  It was quite possible that he was not
aware that he had been transferred to London, since he had been such a junior
employee at the time.  London had changed him, and Mr Nance, who had given
him a pride in himself and his abilities by valuing him as a man and a
friend.  If Gerard did not want him for a secretary then he was beginning to
think that he might owe the old man a duty for what he had done for him.  The
butler had reappeared.  "Sir Gerard will see you in his study, sir.  Come
this way, please."  He was led up the great main stairway at the top of which
Sir Gerard and Lady Schuyler entertained their distinguished guests.  Like
the hall, it was lined with good oil paintings.  Either the Schuylers had
excellent taste or their advisers did.  Finally they arrived before a massive
door which the butler threw open, saying loudly,

"Mr Marriott, Sir Gerard."  His cousin was sitting at a desk of similar
massive proportions to the door.  The room was more of an office than a
study, although one wall was lined with books and over the large hearth there
was an oil painting by Sargent of a beautiful woman seated in a rose garden.
Lady Schuyler, presumably.

Unlike himself, Gerard had not changed very much.  He was even larger and
more dominant-looking; self-assurance oozed from his every pore.

Well, what of that?  He had self-assurance now, and the knowledge that he did
not really need this post which Mr Cope had thought such a boon for him,
whereas when he had last met Gerard he had been desperate.

Now, if he went to Rothschild's or took over Mr Nance's shop, he could well
afford to support his mother himself.  He walked forward to stand immediately
before the desk.  Gerard looked keenly at him.  Alien thought that he had not
recognised him when he walked into the study, but the amber eyes which
surveyed him were all-seeing--and they saw that it was his cousin standing
before him, exchanging stare for stare.

"Well, well, well," drawled Gerard, his voice sardonic.

"If it isn't Cousin Alien.  You are Cope's most reliable and trusted man,
are you?  I didn't even know that you were in London, let alone that you were
reliable and trusted."  Alien inclined his head, his own eyes steady on
Gerard.  "I have been here for five years.  I arrived as a junior clerk.  I
am now Mr Cope's second-in-command."  He said nothing more: merely waited.
It was almost a clash of wills as to which would speak first.  Alien was
determined not to give way.  He had inclined his head a little when he spoke,
but now raised it to stare challengingly at his cousin.  "You allowed
yourself to be put forward for this position?"

"Is that a question?"   Alien asked politely.   The words were insolent but
his manner was not.   Gerard recognised himself a little in the young man
before him.   "You may take it as one."   "Then the answer is yes."   Gerard
wanted to whistle.   He said instead,

"That must mean that you have no objection to working for me."  "Indeed not.

The objection might lie in your not wanting me to.  " Gerard rose and walked
round the desk.  " You have changed, I see.  " " I regret that I cannot say
the same for you, sir.  But, changed or not, I am willing to be your
secretary and to serve you as diligently and humbly as I have served Mr Cope.
More I cannot say.  " Gerard said gently, for he thought that in some way
his once unconsidered cousin had become formidable, " You understand that you
will have to live in.  It might be fairer to you for your Schuyler connection
to be revealed.  " His cousin's reaction surprised him.  Alien threw his head
back and said haughtily,

"No, on no account.  You made it plain nine years ago that I was to  claim
no relationship with you, and by doing that you conferred on me an unexpected
favour.  You made me my own man.  I am now Alien Marriott, with no Schuyler
in my name, and I have not the slightest wish to be connected with you and
your family in any way other than that of the work for which I am to be
paid."

"Suppose I made that a condition of your employment?"   "Then I should offer
you my resignation from Schuyler's on the spot.   If you wish to hire me you
will offer me the same terms as anyone else who was sent to you.   No less
and no more."   Gerard thought that it might have been his own young self
speaking.   "Very well, you shall have your wish.   I think that we might
deal well together."   "So long as we both understand, sir, that our
relationship is only one of business.   I want no favours, nor do I want to
be judged more harshly than you would judge an Alien Marriott whom you had
never met before."   "Very well.   I find it odd that the man I interview
should be the one laying down conditions, but for once I shall be happy to
accept yours.   When can you start?"   Alien lifted his briefcase.
"Immediately, but I shall require a little time to move my possessions from
my present rooms to Park Lane."   "You have not asked me what your hours and
duties will be."   "From all I have heard, and what I have been told of Mr
Hall's, they will be fair.   Neither onerous nor overgenerous."   Gerard
began to laugh.   Yes, it was like interviewing himself.   He tossed a piece
of paper over to Alien.   "Your conditions are listed there.   If they are
not to your taste, you may change your mind.   I shall quite understand."
Alien picked up the paper, looked at it and said,

"You will allow?"  before reading it.

His terms of service were indeed fair, and, together with his salary, would
enable him to retain his rooms with Mr Nance and also give him a little time
to continue his clock- making activities.  He had to give Gerard a quarter's
notice, but he thought that if, after a suitable length of time had passed,
he wished to leave, his cousin would not stand in his way.  It was done.
Gerard said easily,

"I now have to attend some flummery of my wife's at the Savoy Hotel.  While I
am out you might like to begin the task of moving in.  Tomorrow morning will
be soon enough for us to start to work together."  Alien inclined his head;
it was his conge.  The die was cast.  He would be working with Gerard, living
in his home and whether he was glad or sorry, he did not know.

Chapter Three Torry had told Trish that they were dining alone that night.
She accordingly dressed quite simply.  She disliked the elaborate clothing
which most society women wore, preferring a classic elegance of line to
frills and flounces.  Similarly her lustrous dark hair was devoid of the
elaborate curls which fashion favoured.  Nor did she wear what were known as
rats, small pads arranged under the hair to give the impression of having a
greater wealth of it than nature had given her.  She rarely needed to resort
to paint and powder to enhance what was a perfect complexion without them.
Her violet eyes were already famous, and, like many late nineteenth-century
beauties before her, her photograph had appeared in the Illustrated London
News above a caption reading simply,

"An English Violet'--in imitation of the description of Lilly Langtry, once
the Prince of Wales's mistress, as

"The Jersey Lily."  Trish disliked her fame and tried to ignore it.

What she could not ignore was people standing on chairs at balls to look at
her, and the myriad of young men who pursued her for her money as well as her
looks.  Tonight she had chosen to wear a pale amethyst gown with a high neck
and a simple lace collar.  Her only jewellery was tortoise shell combs
decorated with some small diamond studs, and she earned nothing but a small
fan.  She liked these informal evenings--they reminded her of home and the
simple life which she had lived before her mother fell ill.  She had just
reached the black and white stone-flagged entrance hall when one of the doors
into it--the one directly opposite to her--opened and a young man wearing a
dark suit came through it.  They stared at one another.  Alien immediately
recognised 'the girl with violet eyes' and Trish recognised her rescuer.  It
would have been difficult to tell which was the more astonished.  "You!"
they both exclaimed together--and then fell silent.

Trish, surprisingly, was the first to recover.  She thought that her saviour
looked even more handsome in his dark suit than he had done when he had
lifted her out of the coach--and she'd thought that he had been remarkable
then.  "Oh," she breathed, dropping her fan and clasping her hands to her
breast.  "How wonderful to meet you again!

Why did you disappear?  How surprised and pleased Gerard and Terry will be
when I tell them I have found you.  " " No!  " The word almost exploded from
Alien.

"Please, I beg of you, say nothing of the accident to them--or of my part in
it."  Trish was so overcome that she could only stutter at him.

"But why?  What you did was heroic.  Oh, I am not speaking of what the papers
said, but of what I saw you do.  How can you not want people to know?"  Alien
did something entirely spontaneous.

He would wonder afterwards what anyone who had come upon them then would have
made of it.  He dropped on to one knee, took her small hands in his and
looked up into her glorious eyes before he said urgently,

"I know how you must feel, but you must do me this one great favour in return
for the one I did for you.  It is vital to me that no one knows of what I
did.  For reasons I cannot explain to you I wish to remain anonymous.  " Will
you do as I wish, my violet-eyed beauty?  " The last words flew out of him.
In response Trish, also scarcely knowing what she was doing, lifted one of
his hands to her lips and kissed its palm.  A great shudder went through him,
but he did not withdraw it when he stood up.  She said slowly,

"It beggars belief that you require this of me, but since I owe my rescue to
you--and Hetty's life--then I will keep silent, even though my dearest wish
is for the world to know you for what you are."  For a long second they
remained standing thus, face to face.  Then time's clock ticked again.

Alien surrendered the hand he still held and she handed him his back.

He bowed, and said stiffly and impersonally, after a fashion quite different
from the one he had previously used to her,

"I must inform you that I am Alien Marriott, Sir Gerard's new secretary, and
you are?"

"I am Patricia Courtney, always known as Trish, and I must ask you whether,
when we meet before dinner, you wish us to appear to be strangers."   Clever
girl, thought Alien, but said aloud,

"I think that would be best, don't you.  Miss Courtney?"

"If that is what you want, yes."   "And I also think that you should enter
the drawing room before me.   It would not do for us to arrive together."
He also thought that it would give them both time to recover from the shock
of their unexpected meeting.   No, it was more than shock; something had
passed between them which was deeper than that: a powerful and mutual
attraction which seemed age-old, not new.   It was as though they had known
one another long ago in some distant past.   He watched her walk to the
drawing room door and pass through it with a sense of loss which, although he
could not know it, Trish shared.   She had recovered her usual calm
composure, and consequently she did not betray her surprise on finding that
Gerard and Torry were not alone.   Lord Moidore, Gerard's original patron in
London society, and now his best friend, was seated before the fire, a glass
of sherry in his hand.   He and Gerard put their glasses down and rose to
greet her.   Tom Moidore, a widower who had recently lost a wife to whom he
had always been faithful--unlike many--was finding it hard to adjust to life
without her.   He was a large man in his early fifties.   "You know Tom, of
course," Gerard said to her, 'although he has not been seen much in society
lately.   He was at the luncheon today and, finding that he was at a bit of a
loose end, I invited him to dinner.   I assured him that it would be a quiet
family one, the only other guest being my new secretary, who should be here
any minute.   " He pulled out his gold hunter and inspected it.   " One more
minute, in fact, and he will be after the hour I told him to be here.   Not a
good way to start one's new post, eh, Tom?   " Trish flushed.   The only
reason the new secretary looked like being late was because of their chance
encounter in the entrance hall.   She was debating whether to say something
to mollify Gerard when the door opened and Alien entered.   Gerard looked at
the hunter which he was still holding and said, grinning a little, " Punctual
to the moment, Marriott As you see this is the family dinner I spoke of
earlier.   May I introduce Mr Alien Marriott to my wife, Lady Schuyler, and
to Miss Patricia Courtney, our ward?   The other gentleman present is not a
gentleman at all, nor a member of the family, although our long friendship
quali him to call himself one.   He is, in fact, a nobleman.   Lord Moidore,
may I present my new secretary to you?   " Alien bowed.   Lord Moidore,
responding, said lazily,

"How do, Marriott?"  and to Gerard,

"Hall has finally gone, I see.  Now he was a member of the family.  How many
years had he been with you, Schuyler?"

 "Fifteen," returned Gerard.

"But all things change in the end."  He was looking at Alien as he spoke, so
that Alien wondered if there were a double meaning in them for him.

"Do let us sit down," said Torry briskly.  "This is not a formal gathering
and we may as well be comfortable.  Is this your first post as a secretary,
Mr Marriott?"

"Yes, Lady Schuyler.   I have been working as a clerk in Schuyler's London
house for the past five years.   Sir Gerard will have to be my tutor, I
fear."   "Well, then, I pity you,"

returned Torry frankly.  "He is not the most patient of men."  Alien could
not resist saying, in as neutral a voice as possible,

"I have been told that.  Lady Schuyler, but I trust that I shall prove an apt
and willing pupil."  Trish was not the only person in the room to think that
there was something slightly satirical in Alien's tone.  What impressed her
about him was the calm with which he was behaving, as though it were quite
usual for him to find himself hobnobbing with a leading member of Her
Majesty's Government and one of America's robber barons turned English
gentleman and

MP.

Torry said,

"I can tell by your voice, Mr Marriott, that you are either an American or
have spent some time in the States.  From what part do you hail?"

"The East Coast," Alien answered, choosing the largest piece of territory he
could think of in the hope that Torry would not pursue the conversation by
asking which part of it, compelling him either to lie or be unconvincingly
evasive.

 Fortunately for him the butler cut all conversation short by entering and
announcing that dinner was served.  Lord Moidore took Trish in and Alien made
up the rear.  Lord Moidore made a small joke about his presence spoiling the
perfect symmetry of the meal by creating an odd person at table.  Alien found
himself seated alone, facing him and Trish.  It was Lord Moidore who started
the conversation by saying to Trish,

"Do I understand, Miss Courtney, that you were involved in that dreadful
train accident outside Oxford?"  Trish flushed again.  "Yes.  I was on my way
home from a visit to my great-aunt, who lives just outside learning ton in
Warwickshire.  I suffered very little, fortunately, but my poor maid Hetty
was quite badly injured.  She is still in hospital, but the doctors say that
her chance of a complete recovery is good."  With Alien seated across from
her Trish had not mentioned that she had been rescued by the 'mystery hero.
" Lord Moidore, however, knowing nothing of why she was being reticent, said
cheerfully,

"I understand from Gerard that you and your maid were among those whom the
'mystery hero" plucked from the crash.  " Trish, without looking at Alien,
said,

"That is true, and I shall always be grateful to him, and many others must be
too."

"How strange that he should disappear afterwards.   What sort of person was
he?"   "Young," said Trish, still studiously avoiding Alien's eye.   "Quite
the gentleman, I believe you said," remarked Torry, who was wondering why
Trish was being unfbrthcoming--particularly when she had been so lyrical
about the young man when she had told her of the accident.   "The Morning
Post's man reported that one of those whom he rescued said that he spoke
with an odd accent.   Did you think it was, Trish?"   "Not particularly."
Trish's voice was noncommittal.   Who would have thought that Lord Moidore
would be interested enough in the accident that he was determined to pump her
about it?   "The reason I ask," he said, 'is that there will be an enquiry
set up, and it would be extremely useful to have the young man's evidence.
I understand that he was the first out of the train and the first to examine
the locomotive.   I was hoping that you might have remembered something about
him which would help us to trace him.   " " Only that he was very brave and
took a large number of risks.   If he left the scene in order that he might
not be questioned I think that we ought to respect his wishes, don't you.
Lord Moidore?   " He smiled.   " Yes, I suppose so, my dear.   Seeing that
you owe him a debt of gratitude, I quite understand why you should feel as
you do.   The press are to print an appeal to him to come forward, but if he
remains determined to avoid publicity that may not answer either.   "
Fortunately for both Alien and Trish that disposed of the matter, for Torry,
aware that Trish had disliked speaking of the accident and putting her
reticence down to her over vivid memories of it, steered the conversation
into other channels.

"Gerard," she told the company, her voice amused, 'has been complaining about
the current obsession with the question of whether the new century begins on
January first, 1900, or on January first, 1901.  He considers it frivolous
since, whatever the mathematicians might say, no ordinary person--the fabled
man on the Clapham omnibus, for instance--will consider that it starts in
other than 1900.  I wonder what your opinion is, Tom?  " Alien had drunk his
soup while adopting the junior clerk's habit of not looking at anyone in
particular when he was not part of the discussion.  He was inwardly amused to
note that his cousins were on Christian name terms with the nobility, and at
the same time relieved that Lady Schuyler had turned the conversation away
from the accident.  He had tried to look as innocent as a man could while
Lord Moidore had questioned Trish and was sorry that his plea to her for
silence had put her in such an awkward position.  He was so busily determined
not to be noticed that he almost missed the fact that Lord Moidore had
included him in the vigorous dinner table discussion about the date.  Gerard
was dismissing it as mathematicians' nonsense, while Lord Moidore, partly to
roast him, was taking the opposite point of view.  " After all," he said,
'these days accuracy in such matters is more important than it was in the
past, when times and dates were delightfully vague.  But science has taught
us the necessity for precision if we are to make the most of the brave new
world which the next century will surely bring.  Marriott, here, is at the
sharp end of your business, Gerard, I wonder what his views are on the
matter?"

Alien's surprise at being named was such that he almost dropped his soup
spoon.  He had hoped for anonymity at the dinner table at least, but
apparently he was not to be allowed it.  The footman removing his soup plate
gave him an instant's grace in which to collect himself.

"Why, m'lord," he replied, aware that Gerard's considering eye was on him,

"I am a little of your opinion.  I have a friend who takes these matters
seriously and is investigating the possibility of inventing a machine which
would not only tell the time but would measure the days, weeks and months of
each year after such a fashion, and with such accuracy, that merely to look
at it would tell us precisely which week and month we were in and when the
century changed.  For ordinary, unscientific purposes, though, I agree with
Sir Gerard, and the man from Clapham."  Tom Moidore gave a loud laugh.

"Oh, splendid!  You should be in Parliament, young man.  With one short
paragraph you have managed to please all parties here present.  You have also
intrigued me, and, I believe, Sir Gerard, too.  Is your friend's proposition
serious--or is it mere speculation?"

"Both," said Alien, permitting himself a small smile.   "I understand from
him that earlier this century an English- man called Babbage was
experimenting with a similar machine which would add, subtract, multiply and
divide mechanically, thus saving me and my fellow clerks a great deal of hard
work--as well as saving time."   Alien had a sudden vision of Mr Nance
sitting opposite to him over their humble supper in front of the big black
range in his small kitchen, which was quite unlike the splendid room in which
he was eating the rarest of delicacies, his questioner a peer of the realm.
Mr Nance would most likely be talking animatedly about all the experiments he
might be able to undertake if only he were younger or richer.   For Alien's
part he would be silently regretting that he would not be able to use the
fortune which he had hoped to inherit at twenty-one--and which had been lost
with his father's--to help finance such projects.   "You are speaking of a
machine like Babbage's, but operated by electricity," said Gerard shrewdly.
"Has your friend considered that?"   Alien was aware that both men were
watching him curiously.   "Yes, even though it sounds as impossible as the
time machine of which Mr Wells wrote recently.   The problem is that the
capital necessary to carry out even a small project of that nature is far
beyond his touch."   "Hmm," said Tom Moidore.   "Something for you to think
about, Gerard."

 Gerard shook his head.  "Not yet," he said.  "I don't think the time is
ripe.  In the future, perhaps."

"Oh," said Torry, smiling, 'in the magic new century-- if it turns about to
be magic, that is.   You mentioned Mr Wells, Mr Marriott.   He quite
frightened me by prophesying that strange creatures will be coming from Mars
to murder us all--not a very happy prospect for the future, you will agree.
" Tom Moidore nodded.   " That was in The War of the Worlds, was it not?
That man has the most gruesome imagination.   He's something of a social
reformer too, I understand.   " Alien forbore to mention that he had met H.G.
Wells shortly after he had arrived from the USA, when Wells had been living
in London and had discussed social reform and other matters with him at the
Literary and Philosophical Society to which Mr Nance had introduced him.   He
had no wish to draw any attention to his life outside the Schuyler orbit.
Trish said eagerly,

"I have read The Time Machine.  I liked the bit when the traveller went back
into the past, but, like Torry, I was frightened by his description of our
future.  One can only hope that the next century will not become a scene of
desolation."  She gave a little shiver when she had finished speaking.  Tom
Moidore comforted her jovially.  "Oh, you need have no fear of that, my dear.

The Peace Conference at the Hague--which I shall shortly be visiting--will, I
hope, pass a resolution prohibiting the production of all new firearms and
explosives.  We are growing far too sensible to engage in war, particularly
in one which might involve mass destruction.  " Alien forgot his self-denying
resolution to be as nondescript as possible.  Had Mr Nance said anything
similar he would have responded immediately, as he did now, to a  statement
which he felt the speaker did not wholly mean but was meant rather as an
encouragement to a fearful young woman.  Trish deserved better than that.  "
Do I take it, m'lord," he asked, 'that your last remark means that the
present critical situation between Britain and South Africa will not be
resolved by war--as it was on the last occasion when the two countries were
at odds?"  He saw Gerard raise his eyebrows, Torry smile, and Trish look
sideways at him, her face glowing with approval.  It was the first time since
dinner had begun that their eyes had met.  The table between them disappeared
and for a second they were in a world of their own before they returned to
the Schuylers' dining room.  Neither Gerard nor Torry sensed anything amiss,
but Tom Moidore, that shrewd man of affairs, despite sitting opposite to
Trish and Alien, felt rather than saw the silent message which passed between
them.  How in the world had Master Secretary, who had arrived in the house
only a few hours ago, managed to make such an impression on a young woman who
was notoriously cold to most of the men she had met in society?  She was
famous as the epitome--in the nicest possible way--of the so-called New
Woman, who regarded herself as equal to men and therefore considered herself
entitled to have opinions on subjects which had been traditionally reserved
as the preserve of men.

Fortunately for Gerard and Torry she had drawn the line at joining what was
known as 'the shrieking sisterhood'-- the suffragettes--women who campaigned
noisily and vigorously for the vote.  What was more, if he had read matters
aright, she and Master Secretary had not even had the opportunity to speak to
one another before the meal began--Gerard had introduced him to Trish in the
drawing room in a way which had made it plain that it was their first meeting.

 His answer to Alien, though, was pleasant in the extreme.  "Oh, one does
hope that reason will prevail--indeed, I am sure that it will.

Neither we nor the Boers can possibly gain anything by going to war over
matters which common sense says can be settled peacefully.  " Mr Nance had
once said that the reason one could not predict the future was because so
many odd and quite unpredictable things might occur to change it.  Alien
risked being considered insolent by remarking quietly,

"In my opinion m'lord, which I well know is a humble one, it is those events
which have no reason behind them which often precipitate nations into war."
He gained unexpected support from Torry Schuyler.  She leaned forward, saying
eagerly,

"What a very perceptive remark, Mr Marriott.  You mean, I suppose, like the
firing on Fort Sumter which sparked off the American Civil War?"  Alien bowed
his head in her direction to show his agreement without speaking further.
Trish did it for him.  "If that is true then we must hope that nothing
untoward occurs in the future."

"Which is like hoping that it might not rain tomorrow," said Torry dryly.
"I am always in hopes that electricity-- about which everyone is
enthusiastic--might be used to make the weather more amenable--and more
predictable."   "Like arranging for it to be fine every day and only to rain
at night," put in Trish.   A remark which gained appreciative laughter from
the whole table and led discussion into calmer waters.   Gerard had decided
that since the party was small the ladies and the gentlemen would retire to
the drawing room together once dinner was over, instead of the ladies leaving
the men to their port and cigars.   "Most civilised," Tom Moidore commented
once Gerard had raised the matter.

Alien said nothing.  He had remained silent after his re mark about South
Africa and--last again--he walked to the drawing room to sit quiet, and
outwardly deferential, on a chair near the sofa on which Torry and Trish sat,
away from the armchairs of Gerard and Tom Moidore.

He was suddenly tired to the bone.  It had been a long and difficult day, and
having to behave himself at a semi-formal dinner when he had understood that
it would be a family one had 'put the tin lid on it'--a favourite saying of
Mr Nance's.  His exhaustion was not only of the body, even though he knew
that he had not fully recovered from his exertions of two days ago.  It was
partly, also, of the mind, caused to some extent by his wishing that he was
back in Mr Nance's kitchen, able to speak his mind freely--something to which
he had become accustomed during the last five years.  He had retained his
rooms there, as a bolt-hole to which he could retire if the strain of being
Gerard's unacknowledged cousin became too much for him.  "You didn't want
this post, did you.  Alien?  Why did you accept it?"  Mr Nance had asked
shrewdly, and Alien had answered him in kind.  "Would you understand me if I
told you it was a challenge?"

"I think I might--although I don't understand why it should be a challenge."
He couldn't tell the old man the truth.   That he wanted to prove something
to Gerard: God knows what; he scarcely knew himself!   He was busy asking
himself what folly had led him to this magnificent, but comfortable room,
which yet offered him no comfort, when Gerard remarked suddenly,

"You look tired, Marriott.  Not surprising--you've had a long and hard day.
I give you leave to retire."  He rose, bowed to the company, and made his
adieux short, but gracious.  Torry said, after the door had closed on him and
conversation had continued desultorily for some minutes,

"I,

 too, am feeling weary, Gerard.  If you and Tom will excuse me, I would like
to retire also.  " " And I," said Trish, rising.  She alone knew that Alien's
pallor was the result of the accident and had been happy to see him let off
the leash, as it were.  She also knew that to leave Tom Moidore and Gerard
alone would give them the opportunity to speak freely of matters which they
might not want to discuss before the women.  Indeed, the moment that she and
Tony had left, Tom Moidore leaned forward to say confidentially.  " I hope
that you won't take this amiss, Gerard, but there's something dam'd odd about
your secretary.  "

"Oh?"  said Gerard, pouring his friend another glass of brandy.  "In what
way?"  He knew very well what was odd about young Marriott, but he was not
about to tell Tom what it was.  He had given his word to his cousin that he
would not reveal his identity, to anyone and he meant to keep it.  What did
intrigue him was what Tom thought that he had discovered.  "Difficult to
say," Tom answered, swirling his brandy round and round in its balloon glass
and taking a sniff at it.  "His manner, so outwardly deferential, for one
thing, but I sense that there's a totally different attitude beneath it--
almost as though he despises us."

"That's a remarkable judgement to make," returned Gerard coolly, 'on a few
moments' idle conversation.   " " Not idle on his part.   He's a clever young
devil is Master Secretary, beneath all that humility, if I don't mistake.
What's his background, do you know?   "

What answer could Gerard make but an evasive one-- which didn't sound
evasive?  "Only that Cope sent him to me as his best and most reliable
man--and you know what I think of Cope's judgement."

 "Quite, that it's spot-on, but there's another thing.  Have he and Trish
met before?"  Gerard looked up sharply, his languor gone.  "No, certainly
not.  What makes you ask that?"

"You've always trusted my--what do you call it?--second sight.   Only that
twice something passed between them, with no words spoken--the sort of
communication which usually only occurs between men and women after a long
and intimate friendship or affair."   Gerard said, not angrily but
searchingly,

"I have the best of reasons for knowing that they have never met.  Marriott
has been a clerk in my London office for the last five years, living God
knows where, but somewhere humble, no doubt; his pay wouldn't run to more.
For the last few years, since Trish came to live with us, she has barely been
out of Tony's sight--until she visited this old aunt in Warwick- shire three
weeks ago.  She'd hardly meet Marriott there; the aunt's a recluse, which is
why she came to us.

How, therefore, could she and Marriott have had a long relationship--or a
short one for that matter?  " " Nevertheless," Tom said slowly, 'and again at
the risk of of fending you, I'd swear that they've met before tonight.  I'd
wager good money on it.  But from what you've just said it's an
impossibility--so I'd lose my good money, wouldn't I?"

That ended the matter, but Gerard privately decided to keep a firm eye in
future on Master Secretary, as Tom Moidore had dubbed him.  At least Tom
hadn't guessed at the relationship between them.  After the dinner party with
Lord Moidore Trish was determined to talk to Alien Marriott again; he was
such an interesting person, quite unlike all the young men she had previously
met in London society.  His question to Lord Moidore about the possibility of
war in South Africa had  been very acute, and his remarks about the ending
of the century had been both interesting and informative.  She was not being
quite honest with herself: her real reason for wanting to meet him again was
that he attracted her strongly--and strangely.  She found herself fantasising
about him.  Where had he come from?  Why, every time that she looked at him,
did the oddest sensation shoot through her?  A kind of thrill which involved
her whole body.  She could hardly wait to see him again, if only to discover
whether the thrill would occur again.

Unfortunately, on the following evening Gerard had given a grand dinner party
to a collection of French diplomats--a dinner party to which his secretary
was not invited, which was another opportunity to meet him lost.  The morning
after that Gerard had gone to chair a committee at Westminster before
attending a Commons debate in the afternoon.

Torry had invited her to go shopping at Harrods, but she had pleaded a
headache, thinking that this would be a splendid opportunity to contrive a
meeting with Alien.  She dressed herself quite plainly in a neat blue morning
gown, ran up to Gerard's office, knocked on the door before entering and
pretended to be surprised to find that Gerard was not there.  "No," Alien
told her, looking up from his desk by the window,

"Sir Gerard has gone to the House."  For one moment when he had lifted his
head, his eyes blind before he acknowledged her presence, something about him
had reminded her of Gerard.  She dismissed the fleeting sensation as having
occurred because he was in Gerard's study, surrounded by his possessions.
"Oh, I'm sorry to have interrupted you at your work..."  Alien drank in her
whole charming appearance, trying not to drown himself in her violet eyes.
"No need to be sorry.  To be truthful I have been at my desk for several
hours and I need a break."

 "Is your work very hard?"  asked Trish, desperate to keep him talking to
her so that she had no reason to leave.  "Not really.  The problem is that my
way of keeping files in order is quite different from my predecessor's, which
means that I am having to rearrange his work at the same time that I am
pursuing my own."  The smile he gave her when he finished speaking set
Trish's legs trembling.  That strange thrill was running through her again.
And it only came when she was with him.

She pulled out her little fob watch.  "Aunt Tony and I usually drink coffee
at this hour.  Suppose I ordered it to be served in the library next door.
We could drink it together and then neither of us need be lonely."  Alien
hesitated.  Had she no notion of the temptation which she presented to him?
In his lowly position he had no right to socialise with her.  She, he had
discovered, was a rich heiress, and what was he but a poor man who needed to
earn his own living?  But the look which she gave him was such a pleading one
that he almost surrendered to her immediately--and then decided not to.  It
hurt him to say it, but it was necessary.  "My dear Miss Courtney," he told
her gently,

"I don't think that either Sir Gerard or Lady Schuyler would approve of you
hobnobbing with his secretary.  I'm sure that you never drank coffee on your
own with Mr Hall."

"Indeed not," she said vigorously.   "He was not at all the kind of person
with whom I could either hob or nob.   Neither had he saved me from a train
wreck.   He was also old enough to be my father and consequently presented no
temptation to me at all."   "But I do.   Miss Courtney.   Is not that true?"
How handsome he looked whilst he was denying himself to her.   "I do wish
that you would not call me Miss Courtney,"

 she told him crossly.  "My name is Trish.  I would like you to use it when
you speak to me."

 "Now you know I ought not do any such thing."

"No, I don't.  Everyone else calls me Trish; why shouldn't you?  I was given
the nickname as a child.  At least I wasn't called Pat or Patty; that would
have been the very end.  Don't you find it strange that all the people in the
best society have such weird nicknames?  I find it most childish to hear some
huge guards officer addressed as Binkie toy another giant who's always known
as Tuffy."

"Agreed," he said, his small smile appearing again like the sun coming from
behind a cloud.

Trish gave a little crow of delight, naughtily taking his agreement to be
that to her first statement, not her second.  "There!  I knew you'd give way.
Trish it shall be."  Alien gave way.  "In private only.  In public--Miss
Court- they."

"If that is what you want.   Now I shall ring for coffee to be served next
door.   No one will think anything of that.

Gerard and Torry often take coffee in the library.  You and Gerard would have
had coffee there today if he weren't at the House.  " She pulled the bell and
when the footman arrived ordered coffee for two.

When he had gone she flung open the door which led to the library and
motioned Alien through.  There was a table in a tall window at which she
often sat with her guardians.  It looked out on to Hyde Park where, later in
the day, the cream of society would appear walking, or on horseback, or in
their carriages.  And Alien would still be working.

He was watching her mobile face with its changing expressions and thought
that he had never seen anything so charmingly artless.  Not that she was a
fool.  Everything she said betrayed a lively mind, and if she had not been
formally educated she had obviously educated herself.

"I like the library," she told him.  "The books and the pictures, and the
feeling that all the great minds of the past still live in them."

"True," he said, 'but before we discuss them, I have to offer you my thanks
for not betraying the 'mystery man" to Lord Moidore.  You must have been
sorely tempted to reveal that he was sitting at table with him."

"Indeed I was.   I find it strangely satisfying, however, to know something
which he doesn't.   He is kind to women, but he thinks that we are fools and
talks down to us.   He's good, though, really good---not like that ghastly Mr
As- quith whom Aunt Tony warned me never to be alone with because he wasn't
safe around young girls.   I suppose I shouldn't say that to you, but it's
the oddest thing, I feel that I have known you all my life and can say
anything to you."   What a fool he will think me, thought Trish despairingly,
babbling away like that.   But it's the truth.   I feel comfortable with him.
I suppose that because he's quiet and self- contained I believe that I can
confide in him and he won't betray me.   What was nice was that when she had
finished chattering a companionable silence fell before he said,

"I

know what you mean, Trish.  Remember, though, that many men of affairs, and
men of no affairs at all in society, talk down to all those whom they
consider their inferiors.  Not only women but servants, tradesmen and even
professional people are addressed in exactly the same fashion in which Lord
Moidore talked to you at dinner the other night.  " The coffee arrived,
served by a footman who promptly returned to the servants' hall and told the
staff,

"That new secretary's a fast worker and no mistake.  He's already chewing the
rag with Miss Courtney as though he's known her all his life.  When the cat's
away, the mice will play.  I wonder what Sir Gerard would have to say about
that!"

 "Enough, man," the butler commanded magisterially whilst trying to decide
how best to drop a word in Sir Gerard's ear.  He disliked men who were
neither servants nor masters trying to get above themselves.

Drinking coffee with the Schuylers' well-protected ward, was he?  What next!
He would have had a further fit if he could have heard Alien and Trish
discussing quietly and sensibly the vexed question of female suffrage.
Trish's original nervous chattering, provoked by the excitement of being
alone with Alien, had at last subsided.  Shortly afterwards Alien pulled out
his watch and said,

"Pleasant though this is, I must go back to work."  Trish answered him
eagerly.  "Sir Gerard and Lady Schuyler are lunching with the Prince of Wales
tomorrow, before the Prince and Sir Gerard attend a meeting of architects
interested in designing suitable homes for the poor.  I see no reason why I
shouldn't ask the butler to serve coffee in here again at ten-thirty tomorrow
morning, do you?"

 "Every reason in the world,"

replied Alien, rising to leave, and offering her one of his slow smiles which
clutched at her heart strings, 'but that does not prevent me from saying that
I shall find it necessary to retire to the library tomorrow morning at about
that hour, when I shall be as surprised to find you there as you were to
discover that Sir Gerard was not in his office this morning!  " " Fairly
caught out," riposted Trish with a ga mine's grin.  " I can see that I shall
need to take care to be absolutely truthful when next we meet.  I've grown
too used to being with young men whose one weapon against me is flattery.  "
" Oh, I can do that, too,"

Alien told her, before he closed the door behind him, 'but I rather thought
that you would prefer me to be honest.  " " Indeed I do," Trish murmured
softly to herself.  " And I  This first rendezvous set the pattern of their
days.  Whenever possible--that was when they were left alone in the
house--Alien and Trish met for a few snatched minutes over coffee.  Otherwise
they were constrained by being in the company of Gerard and Torry, separately
or together.  On evenings when the Schuylers dined alone.  Alien dined with
them, sitting silent at the table unless spoken to, and equally silent in the
drawing room after it.  "I had always thought my fellow Yankees a talkative
race," Torry remarked to Gerard at breakfast after Alien's first week in Park
Lane, 'but Mr Marriott seems determined to prove me wrong.  Mr Hall, who was
scarcely a sociable soul, had more to say for himself than your new man.  " "
Better that than an idle flow of vacuous chatter," was Gerard's only reply.
He was somewhat surprised by his cousin's determination to remain aloof from
them, but respected it.  " I can only suppose that he is something of a
recluse.  He never addresses me on other than matters of business.  His
efficiency, however, is undoubted, and that is what I want most in a
secretary, not an unending stream of witty conversation.  " Trish, listening
to them, thought of the man whom she was coming to know, who talked
interestingly to her on a wide variety of subjects.  He had a quiet humour,
making small jokes which she did not always pick up until he had left her.
He never took any advantage of their secret meetings, remaining always a
perfect gentleman, something which was beginning to annoy Trish a little.
Did he really feel for her what she was beginning to feel for him?  He showed
little sign of it.  His self-control was so absolute that she had no notion
of what he might be thinking except when he gave her that heartbreaking
smile.  They were both, she thought crossly, behaving so properly  that they
might as well be a pair of bishops at a convocation!  She would have been
heartened to learn what it was costing Alien not to give way to his very real
attraction to her, not to lean forward and take her hand in his, and... At
that point in his post-meeting musings he usually gave up and concentrated
sternly on his work for Gerard--which was the equivalent of throwing a bucket
of cold water over himself.  On his first full day off Alien visited Mr
Nance.  He found him in his workshop, examining the innards of a striking
clock which he had spread across the bench.  He looked up at Alien, showing
little of the pleasure which he felt on seeing him again.  " You come at an
apposite moment," he remarked somewhat ruefully.  " My eyes are betraying me
these days.  " He handed Alien the loupe he was holding.

"Perhaps you can help me."  It was a gesture of confidence which set Alien
smiling.  He sat down, asked his master what the problem was and set about
solving it.  "I see that living among the mighty has not yet destroyed your
skill."  Mr Nance's voice was dry.  "You look tired.  Are they overworking
you and not feeding you properly?"

"Neither," said Alien, pausing from his lab ours for a moment.   "Sir Gerard
is a reasonable taskmaster and the food is superb.   On the other hand..."
He paused tantalisingly, picked up a tiny screwdriver and concentrated on his
work before finishing his sentence.   "On the other hand, I prefer your
kitchen and your company to the fleshpots."   Without thinking he added,

"I have grown unused to high living, I fear."

"Which means that you were once used to it--something which I had guessed
from little things you have said and done."   Alien shrugged his shoulders.
"Oh, one gives one's self away without meaning to.   Here, I believe that I
may have repaired your broken piece."   Mr Nance took it from him.   "You
will be my master soon.   Alien, and my heir.   I would like you to be my
heir in every way.   You have a gift, a creative gift, which is better than
the other gift you have, which is a barren one used to make other men rich."
They had had this argument before, and again Alien said nothing in reply.
"Does this mean," Mr Nance went on, 'that you are wedded to this man for whom
you are now working?   That you see no future here?   That you will leave me
to make my clock of the century on my own?   " " You are a blackmailing old
gentleman, are you not?   " said Alien, laughing.   " You and Sir Gerard
Schuyler are not as unalike as you might think.   I spoke to him of our ideas
for a year-long and dated clock shortly after I arrived in Park Lane, and he
was full of electricity and the wonders which it might perform.   " " If he
was, he is a shrewd man.   Old age prevents me from considering its
advantages.   You, on the other hand.   " " I on the other hand," said Alien,
'am hungry.   I skipped breakfast in order to come to you as soon as possible
in the hope that you would serve me one of your fry-ups.   I've missed them."
He could not have said anything more calculated to please the old man.   He
beamed at his protege.   "I shall only do that if you will tell me if you
have met any charming young ladies in your new home.   It is not good for you
to live like a monk."

Alien's answer was careless.  "Thus far, I have only met Sir Gerard's wife,
who is charming but not young, and their ward.  Miss Courtney, who answers
to both your descriptions.  Both of them are equally beyond my touch, and,
since the servants despise me for not being one of them, my future dealings
with any young ladies, charming or otherwise, look likely to be bleak."
"Your trouble," said Mr Nance, who had now taken over the task of repairing
the clock, 'is that you are too particular, too finicky.  But it is a good
failing.

You are not likely to end up hitched to someone inappropriate because you
could not keep your hands off her.  " This was one of the many pieces of
down-to-earth wisdom with which he favoured Alien, whom he saw as a son to be
advised.  Alien had a sudden vision of himself not keeping his hands off
Trish.  He banished the vision of a Trish who was slowly being stripped of
her clothes in order to reveal the glories of her beautiful body.  He thought
of fry-ups instead, and plaintively reminded Mr Nance that he owed him one
for telling him about the women he had been meeting in Park Lane.  After that
setting the table, making tea and slicing bread for a late breakfast sufficed
to keep at bay lecherous thoughts about someone whom he was foolish enough to
hanker after--seeing that he had become that most dubious creature of all:
someone who was neither servant nor master.

Chapter Four Trish was walking along Piccadilly, mooning about life.

More accurately, she told herself, she was mooning about Alien Marriott, whom
she had not met much lately--other than in brief encounters on stairs or in
corridors.  This was the busiest part of Gerard's year, which would climax in
mid-July with a grand dinner which the Prince of Wales had promised to
attend--the Prince being one of his friends and admirers.  The Prince liked
Yankees, some unkind commentators said, because unlike him they could get
things done.  His mother's tenacious hold on life meant that he would be an
old and tired man before he succeeded to the throne--if he did not die before
her, that was.  Alien being very busy and constantly in attendance on Gerard,
their little meetings in the library had come to an end.  Time was slipping
by, and, although she was encouraged by her guardians to meet as many young
men in society as possible, she knew that neither of them would encourage her
to pursue her friendship with Gerard's penniless secretary.  The thing was,
though, the more time she spent with Alien the more boring she found all the
young gentlemen of her acquaintance.

 She was on her own in the West End, for Torry being from America, where
young ladies were allowed much greater freedom than the over-chaperoned
English girls, allowed her to visit it without a maid in attendance.  She
dawdled along, looking in shop windows and wondering why she felt so lonely
these days, when before she had met Alien these little expeditions had been
life-giving because she could please herself.  The pavement was crowded, and
weaving her way through the pedestrians before crossing a street jammed with
horse-drawn carriage of all kinds she thought that she saw Alien walking
briskly along on the other side of the road.  It was almost as though
thinking about him had conjured him up!  She knew that it was his day off,
and also knew that it was his custom to leave the Park Lane house before he
had eaten breakfast.  It was, therefore, not unlikely that he might have
travelled to the West End.  Reaching the opposite pavement at last, she set
off in the same direction to try to catch his apparent double up, in order to
discover whether it was Alien she had seen.

This little adventure seemed to give her whole morning a point and purpose.
Unfortunately, just when she nearing him, she was prevented from any further
progress by a procession of men who were carrying large boxes from a
pantechnicon into a newly opened shop.  By the time that the last man had
gone by her she could no longer see her quarry.

Of all the rotten luck!  Trish could only console herself by assuming that it
had not been Alien she had seen.  On the other hand the man had disappeared
so quickly that it was possible that he might have turned into the alley full
of shops which were just beyond the line of removal men.  It wouldn't hurt to
go down it herself--who knows what she might find?  Alas, there was no sign
of him.  The alley was empty of life except for a Persian cat which sat
sunning itself in the doorway of a small shop whose one window was full of
clocks and watches.

Perhaps it was the cat which led her there, but for whatever reason--or no
reason--Trish walked over to inspect the window and the small and large
treasures displayed therein.  For treasures they were, she soon discovered.
One watch in particular lured her by reason of its beauty.

It was a lady's watch on a chain, meant to be worn around the neck to make
inspecting it easy.  It was gold, decorated with tiny enamelled flowers.
Beside it was a matching gilt box in which to keep it safe when not in use.
Trish could not resist the delicate thing.  The cat had risen and padded over
towards her, arching its back in order to rub itself gently against the full
skirts of her elegant walking dress.

She bent down to stroke it before pushing open the door into the shop.

She found herself in a small room full of clocks of all kinds.

Grandfather clocks, grandmother clocks, bracket clocks, travelling clocks,
mantelpiece clocks, banjo clocks, all of them chiming the hour of eleven,
some early and some late.  Behind the counter stood a little old man, white-
haired and wearing an embroidered skull cap.  "Good morning, madam.  How may
I assist you?"

"Good morning," Trish responded.   "I wonder if I might have a look at the
small watch on a chain in the window."   "Of course, madam.   One moment and
I will fetch it out for you.   It is a charming piece, is it not?"   "Very.
It caught my eye immediately."   "Which shows your good taste," the
shopkeeper told her, laying the watch, the chain and the box reverently on
the blue velvet mat which lay on the counter.   He was about to lift the
watch up to show her its beautifully enamelled back when the door behind him
opened and a man came through it.

 It was Alien.  It was also an Alien whom she had never seen before.

He had discarded his sober black jacket, his stiff glossy collar and formal
cravat.  Instead his shirt was open at the neck and its sleeves were rolled
up to show a pair of muscular forearms.  He was also wearing a coarse linen
apron and holding something in his hands.

Surprised, they stared at one another.  Trish broke the silence first.

"It was you I saw.  I thought it was."

"Did you now?"   he said, with his small smile.   "And when was that?"   She
might have known that he would never allow anything to shake his calm
control.   "Just now.   In Piccadilly, walking ahead of me.   I knew it was
you, and then I lost you.   I decided to investigate the next side road--and
here you are."

Alien shook his head.  They had both forgotten that interested spectator Mr
Nance, who was turning his head from one to another as though he were
watching a game of singles at a tennis club.  "You knew me in a crowded
street?"

"Of course.   I would know you anywhere."   For the first time since she had
met him Alien laughed.   He was not mocking her; the laugh was rueful.
"What a girl you are, Trish."   The laugh, though, had broken the spell which
had held them alone in their enchanted world.   Alien turned to Mr Nance.
"You will think me manner less, sir.   Allow me to introduce the young lady to
you.   Miss Trish Courtney meet Mr Louis Nance, who is by way of being my
friend, teacher and benefactor.   Miss Courtney is the ward of my new
employer, sir."

"Enchanted," murmured Mr Nance, taking in the whole charming picture which
Trish presented in her mauve and  white walking dress, her pretty white
straw hat with its circlet of pansies, her white gloves and white kid shoes.
This, then, was the young lady whom Alien had so briefly mentioned and who,
judging by the way they had just rallied one another had become a challenge
to his monkish life.  He had to commend his protege's taste.  Instead he
complimented Trish's, leaving his previous thought unspoken.  "Miss Courtney
had the good sense to wish to examine this handsome little piece, which you
may remember I acquired at a recent sale."  He saw that Trish was looking
curiously at them both, and decided that an explanation was in order.  "Mr
Marriott has lodged with me ever since he arrived in London and, like you,
almost by accident found his way to the shop.  He lived here until he was
employed by your guardian and visits me once a week.  He has become my
friend."

 "Ah," murmured Trish.

"You are, then, the friend who is trying to build a remarkable clock which
will tell the day, the month and the year.  He spoke of it when Lord Moidore
came to dinner on his first day with us."  Mr Nance looked at Alien, who said,

"We were discussing time and the next century, were we not, Miss Courtthey?"
"Trish," she said evenly.  "This is not our coffee meeting, but I am still
your friend and I must be Trish to you--and to you, sir, for if you are
Alien's friend then you are my friend, also," she added, smiling in Mr
Nance's direction.  He was as captivated by her as Alien was.  "Then if you
are my friend," he told her, 'you might perhaps care to join us for a cup of
tea.  We usually indulge in one at this time of day.  " " Nothing would
please me more.  "

She watched Alien lay down on the counter the clock which he had been holding
before he opened the door to admit the cat, which went straight to Trish to
rub himself against her skirts.  After that  he turned the placard in the
shop door's window from

"Open' to " Closed'.  Mr Nance said,

"You see how welcome you are, Trish.  Cyrus seldom makes a fuss of
strangers."

"Well, he made a fuss of me outside," said Trish forthrightly, bending down
to stroke him.   "Cyrus, you say?"   And then,

"Oh, of course, after Cyrus the Persian!  What a clever name."

"You may well say that," said Mr Nance, opening the door to the back room
for her.   "Alien named him."   The back room was a workshop where repairs
were carried out.   Bits and pieces of clocks stood on a bench.   Some
odd-looking machinery was on another table.

Shelves, crammed with a wide variety of books, covered one wall.  At the far
end of the room was another door which led to a living room of a kind which
Trish had never seen before.  On the wall opposite to her was a large black
kitchen range in which a fire blazed.  On either side of it were two
comfortable armchairs.  A dining table stood before a window which looked out
on to a yard.  A settle and a writing desk took up the whole of the
right-hand wall.  To the left of the door by which Trish had entered was a
large Welsh dresser on whose shelves an array of crockery was arranged.  The
floor was covered with blue and gold linoleum.  Another open door led to a
scullery with a red quarry-tiled floor.  Alien had gone to its small sink and
was filling a sooty copper kettle with water.  He carried it through to the
range and placed it on the fire.  Mr Nance motioned Trish to one of the
armchairs and then sat down in the other himself.  Alien had returned to the
kitchen from where, after a few moments he came back, carrying a brightly
patterned tin tray on which stood a tea-caddy, a sugar bowl, a milk jug and a
large brown teapot.  After he had laid them out on the table he collected
from the dresser three cups and saucers, four plates, and three apostle
teaspoons from one of the dresser's drawers.  From a cupboard in the dresser
he fetched a tin biscuit barrel, with the words

"Peak Frean's' on the side, took some biscuits out of it and carefully
arranged them on one of the plates.  He caught Irish's eye when he moved over
to the fire to check whether the kettle was boiling, and said, with his small
smile,

"You see, Trish, that Mr Nance has thoroughly domesticated me.

When I arrived in his shop I could scarcely boil water.  Now I can cook a
dinner and, if the occasion demands it, bake bread.  Mr Nance doesn't like
the shop kind.  His first present to me was a copy of Mrs Beeton's immortal
recipe book.  " Trish said suddenly, the words wrenched from her,

"Oh, Alien, you both make me feel quite useless.  Gerard told Torry that you
were the best secretary he had ever had; from what I have seen here you can
help Mr Nance to repair clocks and watches, and now you tell me that you can
cook.  The only thing which I can do is look decorative."

"But you do that very well," Mr Nance told her, echoing Alien's thoughts.
"But it isn't enough," exclaimed Trish mutinously.   "Nothing I can do is
enough.   I can ride a little, draw a little, paint a little, embroider a
little, crochet a little, play the piano a little, sing a little, dance a
little.   What a useless catalogue that is, to be sure.   Now, if I had been
a boy, I might have been taught something practical.   But I'm not, so I
wasn't."   And she shook her head at them both.   "But I'm very happy that
you aren't a boy, Trish," said Alien, looking tenderly across at her before
pouring boiling water on to the tea leaves in the big brown earthenware pot.

"Now you're patron ising me, both of you."  Trish was  looking mournful, so
mournful that Alien wanted to go to her, put his arms around her and comfort
her.  "Do you know what?"  she said.  "I once thought I would like to go to
Oxford, to Somerville.  Then Mother fell ill, and that was the end of that."
"Who nursed your mother?"

Alien asked her.  "Mostly me, because she couldn't bear the notion of a
trained nurse in the house.  She said that it made her feel an invalid.

It was only in the last few months when she became so ill that we had to have
a nurse to look after her.  " " But you did do something useful if you nursed
your mother.  " " I suppose.  Only by the time I came to live with Uncle
Gerard and Aunt Torry, as I used to call them, then it was too late for me to
go to Oxford--and I wasn't really prepared for it, either.  I wasn't sent to
one of those schools which educate girls for university.  First of all Father
didn't approve of them, and then Mother fell ill.  It may be selfish of me,
but if I'd been a boy none of that would have happened.  " Alien brought a
little table over to where she sat and placed her tea, the small jug of milk,
the sugar bowl and a plate for her biscuits on it.  " Lady Schuyler told me
once that you were sympathetic towards those who call themselves New Women
and demand the same rights and education as men.  Hearing your story makes me
understand why you feel like that.  " " Indeed," echoed Mr Nance, who liked
to think of himself as a Fabian socialist, like Bernard Shaw, the playwright,
and Mr and Mrs Sidney Webb, wealthy people who sympathised with the lot of
the underdogs, be they working class or women, and believed in helping them
by slow change, not revolution.  Trish drank her tea and ate her biscuits.
Mr Nance, who had a gift for drawing people out, and who counted music 
among his many enthusiasms, talked to her of it, and was happy to discover
that her taste was good--at least according to his lights.

"You said that you played the piano.  What are your favourite pieces?"

"Nothing too difficult.  I accompany Torry when she sings.  But my favourite
composer is Mozart, who is not fashionable these days."

"You mustn't underrate yourself, for there is something which you can do and
I can't," said Alien, who had been sitting quietly beside her, watching the
play of emotion on her mobile face.   "Play the piano, that is.   I love to
listen to music, though.   Mr Nance and I always go to Sir Henry Wood's
Promenade Concerts."   The oddest thing was that she would think afterwards,
when she was once again cocooned in the splendours of Park Lane, that she had
rarely enjoyed herself so much as she was now doing, talking to Alien and Mr
Nance in Mr Nance's humble kitchen--for that was what it really was.   She
had never, ever before expressed herself freely and frankly about her lost
education and her resentment that everything which she did was amateur in the
extreme because she had never been taught to do anything properly.   "A young
lady is not expected to try too hard," her mother had once told her
reprovingly.

"Gentlemen don't like it."  Most of the gentlemen whom she had met certainly
lived up to her mother's description of them.  Except, oddly enough, Gerard,
that supremely masculine man.  He was proud of his clever wife, who organised
committees and wrote articles expressing advanced views which found their way
into the daily newspapers, including, once, that august organ of opinion.
The Times.  He had never stood in her way--rather he encouraged her--but
then, he was an American.

 Remarkably Alien suddenly started talking exactly like his employer.

"I see no reason why a woman--and by that I include those who are described
as " ladies"--should not have the right to express themselves exactly as men
do, and if that means that they must be educated as men are, then educated
they must be."  Trish sent a grateful smile his way.

"You aren't just saying that to please me, are you.  Alien?  Men often give
girls false answers in order to please or flatter them, but they don't
believe a word of it."

"Oh, I've no desire to please or flatter you, Trish.   As a fledgling New
Woman, you shouldn't want me to, and I will respect your wishes, always."
His eyes were dancing, and again Trish suddenly saw in his gently mocking
expression something which reminded her of Gerard.   It was gone in a moment,
even before she flung at him, her face comical,

"Wretch!  You're a wretch, Alien Marriott."

Her face alive with amusement, she appealed to Mr Nance.  "He's a wretch
isn't he, Mr Nance?  Tell him he's a wretch.  He's always teasing me, but he
keeps his face so straight I don't often know that he's doing it.  I only
understand what he's said afterwards, when he's incommunicado with Gerard and
I can't go in to read him the Riot Act."

"Well, you may read it here, Trish--or would you like me to do it for you?"
"Not so much do it for me, but start me on my way."  Mr Nance obliged her.
"You're a wretch.  Alien Marriott, to provoke a poor young girl who hasn't
provoked you."  Alien bent his head in mock surrender.  "OK, OK, I give in."
"Now what in the world does

"OK" mean, Alien Marriott Trish teased him in her turn.  "OK is an American
expression which means certainly,  or I agree with you, or that's all right.
I'm surprised that you haven't heard it before."

  "Yankee slang--not used in our circles,"

retorted Trish grandly.  She was enjoying herself enormously baiting Alien,
trying to get him to relax his guard even more than he had already done.  Oh,
he rose to that, didn't he?  Like a fish snatching at a particularly gaudy
fly.  His smile had grown broader than ever when he tossed the conversational
ball back at her with,

"When are you going to read me the Riot Act?  That's one of your British
expressions, I take it.  I'm not quite sure what it means."

"And that, Alien Marriott, is the biggest whopper I've ever heard.   I've
never before met a man who was so sure about everything--unless it was
Gerard!"   Mr Nance was also enjoying himself.   He had never before seen his
lodger and friend express himself so freely and easily.   This charming young
woman obviously possessed the power to pry him out of the protective shell
into which he often retreated.   "Then you must have met some odd men," Alien
riposted.   "Mr Nance will tell you what a shy creature I am."   "Then it
must be me who has this odd effect on you."   Trish flung this out at him
without thinking: but it was true, no doubt about it.

Gerard had frequently complained to Torry of his new secretary's taciturnity,
and she knew from something her maid had once told her that the servants also
thought him stiff and uncommunicative.  Nothing stiff about him now, though.
They might have been verbally sparring together all their lives.  She
flushed, knowing that she had just given herself away.  Whatever would Alien
say next?  Mr Nance saved her by looking at the big clock on the wall, which
resembled the large clocks in railway stations, before saying regretfully,

"Back to work, both of us.  Perhaps, Trish, you might like to stay here until
twelve o'clock, when I am sure  that Alien would be delighted to escort you
to the nearest ABC for a light lunch.  Unless, of course, you have arranged
to return home for it."  Trish said rapidly, before Alien could object or
demur,

"What a delightful notion!  I have never visited an ABC, and Alien will be
able to stop me from doing all the wrong things there and making a spectacle
of myself."  Alien could not resist leaning forward to say,

"Oh, Trish, wherever you go you are always a spectacle: the most charming
spectacle in the whole world."

"I'm not sure whether I should take that as a compliment or not," said Trish
doubtfully.   "I fear that it may be one of your remarks which takes on quite
a different meaning when thought about later."   This set Mr Nance laughing,

"Come now, children," he told them, pretending to be stern.  "Enough is
enough.  Time to cease squabbling.  Trish, my dear, you will find a large
number of books and magazines on my shelves which will help you to pass the
time."  He hesitated, then said, his old voice kind,

"My dear girl, I have really enjoyed your visit.  I hope that you will not
hesitate to come again--you will always be welcome."

 "And I have enjoyed being here.

Next time I come you must tell me something about clock making.  Oh!  "

she exclaimed.  "I have enjoyed myself so much that I have forgotten about
the little watch.  Before I leave you must tell me how much it costs.  If for
nothing else I would like to buy it as a souvenir of a happy morning."  What
Trish had just said came from the heart.  She was not unhappy with Gerard and
Torry at Park Lane, but there was a formality about life there which she
often found constricting.  Here, in this small room, quite different from
everything she knew, she was more at ease than she had ever been in her whole
previous life.  It was not only being able to talk and joke with Alien
without fear of being interrupted but her pleasure had also been enhanced by
Mr Nance's gentle charm.  Alien's pleasure had been enhanced by her lack of
patronage in her dealings with his friend and patron.  She was gold all
through: a thought he took with him to his work on the bench, which seemed
more fulfilling than ever because he knew that she was sitting in the
kitchen, waiting for him to finish.  Trish must be the charming young lady
whom you dismissed so lightly in our recent conversation," remarked Mr Nance,
a trifle provocatively, when Alien returned after buying Trish poached egg on
toast and a cream bun at the ABC before putting her in a cab for Park Lane.
" I commend you on your taste.  She is not only charming but clever and kind.
She will always be welcome here--and you must know what I mean by that.  "
Alien knew.  He knew that the old man had clearly seen the growing attraction
between him and Trish.  He said, however, and it pained him to admit it,

"You must understand, sir, that she is a great heiress.  I'm not sure whether
I am doing either of us a kindness by encouraging her to come here.  She is
much above my touch."

"Nonsense," said Mr Nance robustly.  "You are a gentleman and she is a lady.
I might prefer to say that you are a man and she is a woman, but it would not
exactly describe your relationship in 1899.  Since I believe, however, that
we are shortly to be living in a century where our present social system will
soon be outdated, such considerations should not weigh with you."
"Nevertheless," said Alien, 'they do.

Perhaps, sir, the best thing would be that neither Trish nor I ought to place
too much stress on our current feelings.  We may find that what  we share is
a fleeting thing, soon to pass, and worrying about our unequal stations in
life will disappear with it.  " He did not really believe in what he was
saying.  His delight in being with Trish was so strong that he could not
think it was a purely temporary sensation.  He had never experienced anything
like it before, and, rightly or wrongly, he thought that Trish's response to
him was the same as his for her.

"You know," he said later, putting down his dessert spoon at the end of their
evening meal,

"I have need of your advice.  I have been rearranging my predecessor's files,
and I have discovered some oddities which I can't explain to you--only
someone well versed in book-keeping and in numbers would understand them.  In
fact, very few of them would detect anything wrong.  You'll have to take my
word for it."

 "Oh, I know my talents lie elsewhere," said Mr Nance.   "But I believe you.

Before you go on, may I ask you one' thing?  Does your employer know of your
mathematical genius--for it almost amounts to that--and, as you well know,
others more knowledgeable than I hold that opinion, too.  "

"No," said Alien, curtly for him when speaking to Mr Nance, who raised his
eyebrows.  "May I ask why?"  he said.  "It could be of use to you for him to
know, even more than to him."

"I have no wish for him to know anything about me other than that I perform
my secretarial duties quietly and competently.   For example, I have taken
great care to tell him nothing about you, and I shall need to ask Trish for
your-- and the shop's--existence to remain a secret between the two of us.
The trouble is that I am unearthing something whose explanation might raise
questions which no one would want to be asked, or would wish to give an
answer to if they were."

 "It involves dishonesty?"

"I believe it does."   "Possibly your employer's?"   "Possibly, and therein
lies the rub.   What sort of hornets' nest might I bring about my ears if I
raise the matter with him?   Especially since, clever though he is, I might
have difficulty in making him understand something so nebulous."   He could
not tell Mr Nance of the odd relationship which existed between him and
Gerard, where there was, in essence, no mutual trust.   "You suspect your
predecessor?"   "I'm not sure who the devil I suspect.   What I do suspect is
that I might have to do even more research into Schuyler's financial
past--and monitor its present."   "In that case," said Mr Nance, 'my advice
is that you do nothing until you are absolutely certain of your facts.   "
Alien lay back in his chair and gave a short laugh.   " Exactly what I
expected, nay, hoped you would say.   If I am right there are only two
possibilities I can see: one of them is that Schuyler Incorporated is being
robbed, and the other is that Schuyler Incorporated is doing the robbing.
Not a pretty thought either way.   "

"No, indeed.  Let us talk about more pleasant things.  Your paper to the
British Horological Institute for instance.  How is it going?"

Alien grimaced.  "Slowly, since I am mostly working at night.  Basically it's
finished.  What I'm doing now is sharpening and polishing it at the same
time.  Two contrary things at once, you might argue."

"I can see that working for Sir Gerard Schuyler isn't addling your brain.
Do you have much to do with his duties as an MP?"   "Oh, yes.   It's
interesting, but time-consuming.   Now that my probationary period is over I
frequently have to go to  the Commons with him.   The best part of that is
when the weather is fine and we take tea on the terrace, surrounded by the
rulers of the British Empire."   He pulled out his watch.   "It grows late.
I'll help you to wash up before I resume my fancy dress and return to Park
Lane.

Next week we can take in a Music Hall: I could do with an earthy bit of fun
for a change.  " " Perhaps Trish would like to come with us?  " Mr Nance's
smile was sly.  " Now there's a thought," smiled Alien, rising from his chair
and beginning to pile the used crockery on to a tray.

"The poor girl will never have had such a treat before, I'll be bound.

Roll on next week!  " A sentiment which Mr Nance heartily applauded.

Chapter Five 1 hat's a pretty bauble you're wearing, Trish," remarked Torry
Schuyler.  " I haven't seen it before.  " She was admiring Trish's new watch
pendant on its gold chain.  " No?  " said Trish, determinedly following the
late Duke of Wellington's maxim.  Never explain.  " It is pretty, isn't it?
" Alien had asked her not to tell anyone about Mr Nance and his shop full of
treasures, so she was 'keeping mum'-- a phrase borrowed from her maid.  If
Alien had had nothing to do with the shop she would have told Torry about it,
but since he did it was better to keep quiet.  She was shortly to appreciate
how necessary it was to be conspiratorial.  After Torry and Trish had left
the room Gerard was enjoying his breakfast when the butler, who had the
housekeeper and many of the staffs full support, approached him, saying,

"Ahem, sir.

There is a matter which I do not like to raise with you, but which I feel
that I should.  " This arcane statement set Gerard snorting inelegantly.  "
Don't waste time, man.  Spit it out.  " " It's about Mr Marriott, sir.  On
the days when you and Lady Schuyler are absent he leaves the office to take
coffee  with Miss Courtney in the library.  I wondered if you had given him
permission.  I thought that I ought to take the liberty of asking.  "

Gerard grunted,

"Yes, it is a dam'd liberty, but you were right to ask me."  The butler
thought to embroider.  "Seeing that Miss Courtney is an heiress..."  Gerard
glared at him.  "That's all.  You may go."

Belatedly.  "And thank you."  Best to say nothing to Torry yet, but to
consult Timson, his know-all valet, a most useful hidden aide.  A Commons
committee of which Gerard was chairman was meeting later that morning.  He
walked upstairs to his suite of rooms and bellowed for Timson to 'finish him
off--his inelegant phrase for 'see that I look like a proper English
gentleman.  " Timson duly arrived.  " You called, sir?  " " You might say so.
" Gerard let a few moments go by before remarking casually, as though it
were an afterthought,

"By the by, Timson, what does the servants' hall know about my secretary and
Miss Courtney?"  Timson, who was used to this intimate, but blunt sort of
questioning, said,

"Only that they seem rather sweet, shall we say, on one another."

 "To the degree of taking coffee together in my absence?"

Timson was one of those who rather liked Alien Marriott--he was a considerate
sort of man, unlike Mr Hall, who had been a bit of an uppity swine--but he
could not resist saying,

"When the cat's away, the mouse will play, sir--as you surely know."

"Yes, I do know that, Timson, thank you.   A pity no one informed me earlier
of these meetings."   But Tom Moidore had warned him, hadn't he?   Timson
gone, Gerard decided that he would say nothing  to Torry or Trish but that
he would warn Marriott off in as harsh a way as possible.   He had not
appointed him in order that he might go fortune-hunting after young
heiresses-- and if he didn't like it he could lump it.   Becoming an English
gentleman had done nothing to make Gerard's thoughts any more gentlemanly
than they had been when he had first set foot in England after leaving the
States.   His public image, however, was quite different.   He was propriety
personified.   Alien was seated at his desk, poring over some accounts, when
Gerard came in.   He was a little surprised to see him.   Gerard had already
given him his orders for the day before he went in to breakfast.   He rose to
his feet, his head bent a little.   He rarely looked Gerard directly in the
eye for fear his expression gave something away.   Gerard said, harshly for
him,

"No need to look dam'd humble, Marriott, when you are busy deceiving me
behind my back."  Alien raised his head as this was thrown at him.  He
squared his shoulders and said,

"Sir?"  He managed to make the simple one-syllable word a statement of acute
puzzlement.  This had the effect of infuriating Gerard even further.  "Oh,
dam me, Marriott, did you expect to go on sweet- talking Miss Courtney over
coffee in the library during my absence for ever?"  Alien, now looking
squarely at Gerard, said quietly,

"I had not known, sir, that you expected me to inform you of the details of
my mid-morning break, or I would, of course, have done so.  I would be
grateful if you would instruct me on what other aspects of my spare time of
which you would wish to know."

He had the intense satisfaction of seeing Gerard turn puce with rage.

"Don't be so dam'd insolent, Marriott.  You know perfectly well of what I am
speaking.  I have no intention of allowing you to exploit your post as my
secretary in order to engage in fortune-hunting one of England's richest
heiresses, to whom I owe a duty of care."  Alien's rage, had Gerard but known
it, equalled his employer's.  Nevertheless, his face stony, he answered
Gerard in the even tones which Trish would have recognised as those he used
to unsettle whoever he was speaking to at the time.  "I am at a loss, sir, to
understand how an infrequent cup of coffee, taken over--' he looked at his
watch '--about fifteen minutes, on average, could be construed as fortune-
hunting."

"An activity," snarled Gerard, who had not yet understood how much he was
underrating the man before him, 'which, I have reason to believe, has already
caused unpleasant gossip in the servants' hall.   " " Oh?   " Alien raised
his eyebrows as high as they would go.   " I hadn't heard that, sir.   I
rarely spend my limited spare time listening to the gossip of the servants'
hall, unpleasant or otherwise, so you must forgive me for being unaware of
it.   " His expression remained unchanging, one of polite interest.   He had,
and both men knew it, succeeded in rebuking Gerard.

Gerard pulled himself together.  He must not allow the young devil standing
before him to bait him further.  Coldly, his own face iron, he said,

"Well, now I will give you an order.  This activity must cease.

You may make what excuse you like to Miss Courtney, but as long as you remain
in my employ you will have as little as possible to do with her in the
future.  That is an order.  " " Understood, sir.  May I resume work now?  "
His total unflappability almost commanded Gerard's admiration.

 "What the devil else would I expect you to do?"  Alien inclined his head.
"I am not quite sure, sir, which is why I asked you."  He knew that he was
treading the tightrope of Gerard's anger, but if Gerard sacked him on the
spot he would, with a few words, solve most of Alien's problems.  For now
that thought did not trouble him.  On the other hand he was enjoying more
than he had expected the challenge which living and working with his cousin
entailed.  His own strength of will was being daily honed, and the knowledge
that he could win a battle of words with Gerard was an exhilarating feeling.
He would leave when he chose, and that was that.  Trish sat in the library,
waiting for Alien to emerge from the office.  He was often delayed when he
was in the middle of doing some important task for Gerard.

Consequently she wasn't worried about his late appearance and sat there
dreaming happily of her next visit to Mr Nance's shop and what she and Alien
might do when they were together there.  It came as something of a shock when
she looked at her watch to discover that he was over fifteen minutes late.
Perhaps he had forgotten the time!  She knocked on the office door before
opening it to discover that he was sitting there, his head bent over his desk
writing rapidly.  He looked up when she moved into the room, but did not
speak.  Her heart beating rapidly, Trish said,

"Are you too busy to drink coffee with me this morning, Alien?"  She looked
so stricken that he rose and walked round the desk to take her hand.

"No, Trish, I am never too busy to make time for you."

"But you didn't come today," she faltered.   "That is because this morning,
my darling.   Sir Gerard  ordered me not to join you for coffee again when
he and Lady Schuyler are absent."   Trish sprang away from him.   "Why in the
world should he do that?"   Alien gave a short laugh.   "It appears that the
servants don't like it."   "Why ever not?   What is it to do with them?   He
cannot mean it."   "I'm afraid that he does.   He thinks that I am after your
fortune."   "How preposterous!   Of course you aren't.   And even if you
were, what about all the other young men I meet to whom he makes no
objection?   Aren't they all after my fortune, too?   I shall make it my
business to go to see him this evening and remind him of that sad fact.

He cannot treat us like this.  " " Oh, but he can, and if you do go to see
him he is almost sure to dismiss me on the spot, and I am not ready to leave
yet.  Later, perhaps.  " " Oh, how unfair!  Whatever shall we do?  "

"We can do nothing here but obey him, and while it is brave of you to refuse
to believe that I am a fortune-hunter, consider carefully whether you ought
to agree to what I shall now propose.  May I suggest that there is no reason
in the world why we should not continue to meet at Mr Nance's, and elsewhere.
We have both come of age, even if you are still his ward."

"I don't need time to consider," returned Trish indignantly, 'for that
would mean that I doubted you.   Which I don't.

Of course I shall meet you at Mr Nance's shop--or anywhere else for that
matter.  I enjoyed myself there very much yesterday--he is such a dear old
man--and now Gerard is trying to spoil it for us.  " " Not if you don't let
him," Alien told her, delighted by her immediate and determined response to
his suggestion.

 It was taking him all his will-power not to put his arms around her and
comfort her, but after what Gerard had said he did not wish to go against his
cousin's wishes in his cousin's home.  What he and Trish might do outside
Park Lane was no concern of Gerard's.  Instead he said gently,

"I ought to leave you now.  There has been enough idle and spiteful gossip
about us without our providing our critics with more.

From now on we must ignore each other.  " " But how shall we know when and
where we are to meet one another?  " asked Trish dolefully.  " Simple,"

said Alien.  "We will make arrangements for the next week when we visit Mr
Nance on my day off-- making sure that we leave Park Lane separately, of
course."

"Of course," said Trish happily.   She would have been happier still if they
were not going to have to meet behind Gerard's back, but he had left them no
alternative.   He ought to have known that neither she nor Alien would ever
bend easily to another's will.   "Time for me to leave you," said Alien,
reluctance written all over him.   "Drink your coffee on your own and allow
the servants to snigger over my unused cup and saucer."   "Why do they
dislike you.

Alien?  You are always courteous and considerate when you speak to them.  " "
Oh, it's nothing personal, I'm sure.  It's just that I am neither fish,
flesh, fowl nor good red herring, and being neither servant nor master leaves
me out in the cold, since neither side wishes to acknowledge me.  It's not
like this in the States, you know "Yes, I do know," Trish told him.  "Gerard
has commented on it critically once or twice, which is why I am surprised
that he has treated you so cruelly."  Alien could not tell her the whole
truth, only part of it.

That is because he feels that he is protecting you from a base
fortune-hunter.  "

 "He might change his mind if he knew that both Hetty and I owe our lives to
you.  I've a good mind to tell him..."  Trish began.  Alien put a gentle hand
over her mouth.  "No, no, my darling.  I doubt whether it would help matters,
and that is my secret, not to be told."

"Very well," grumbled Trish.   "All the same, he ought to know how brave and
true you are."   "I doubt whether that would change his mind, and since what
he thinks of me doesn't trouble me, then don't let it trouble you."   All
very well for Alien to be airy, Trish told herself later, seated lonely in
the drawing room, I'm the one who is having young men paraded before me like
male mannequins so that I may choose one of them for a husband.   Which she
knew, if she were honest, was exaggerating somewhat, since Gerard and Torry
had never put any real pressure on her to accept any of them.   That last
sentence wasn't strictly true, either.   This very evening Lady Norman and
her son Harry were among the Schuylers' guests for dinner.   Harry was by way
of being the very rich heir of an elderly and now paralysed baronet who had
married a young woman late in life to get an heir.   Lady Norman had brought
her son south from the Western Highlands to find a suitable heiress to be his
bride.   Trish fitted the bill because she was not only rich, but beautiful.
Harry had been stubbornly refusing to marry, but once having met Trish she
was sure that Harry would find her beautiful violet eyes irresistible.   Both
she and the Schuylers had been clever enough not to push them at one another.
They had simply arranged for them to meet at suitable intervals and hoped
that nature and propinquity would do their work.   To Trish's relief.   Harry
had been friendly, but never lover-like, and now she was going to have to
spend the evening with him after being  deprived of Alien's company.   It
really was too bad, but there was nothing she could do about it.   She passed
Alien on the stairs on the way down to dinner.   He gave her a bow so slight
that it was barely an acknowledgement, and she averted her eyes from him as
though he were beneath her notice.   The butler, standing at the bottom of
the stairs, grinned.   There was no doubt that his few words to Sir Gerard
had destroyed the young man's hopes.   He should stick to young women of his
own station-- whoever they might be--not go lusting after his betters.

He opened the door for Trish, whom he silently complimented on having come to
her senses, and hoped that she would find the handsome young fellow who had
just preceded her more to her taste.  Alas, handsome Harry might be, and
charming, too, but he was not Alien.  Oh, he was agreeable, talked to her on
matters which interested her, asked her how she was enjoying the season, and
all in all was just the pretty, rather vacuous, young man she might have
married if she had not met Alien in the accident to the Birmingham to London
train.  Trish, trying to eat food which lay like ash upon her palate,
remembered overhearing something which a society beauty had said to a friend.
"My trouble is that I married a man who was the season's catch and after the
honeymoon I found that I had no feeling for him at all--nor he for me--and
now we are stuck with one another."  It hadn't meant much to her at the time,
but now it meant everything.  Did Harry have any feeling for her, or was he
simply netting his heiress in obedience to his dominant mother's wishes?
After dinner was over, and the men had returned from their port and cigars,
Torry had the windows to the terrace thrown open for the evening was warm.
Harry, all outward  gallantry, bent over Trish and asked her if she would
take a turn outside with him.  For a moment Trish was on the verge of
refusing, but thought better of it.  What harm could it do?  "Certainly," she
said, rising and smiling at him.  "I could do with a breath of fresh air."

"And I," said Harry, who didn't smoke very much, and didn't drink either, and
found the obligatory staying behind to do both when the women had gone a
frightful bore.  He offered her his arm and they strolled on to the terrace.
In the distance, despite the lateness of the hour, London was humming with
lights and life.  Cabs and carriages went their way, and even the pavement
was crowded with passersby.

Where was Alien?  What was he doing?  Where would he eat?  Would he visit Mr
Nance?  If so, why was she not with him?  Why had she fallen desperately in
love with a dark quiet man, with an interesting as well as a handsome face,
and not with blond and beautiful Harry, who was talking to her so kindly and
considerately?  She must listen to what he was saying.  It would never do to
ask him to repeat what he had just said.  Apparently he was only asking her
to sit down with him in the warm evening.  The moon was rising above the
trees in Hyde Park, where earlier she and Torry had taken the carriage and
had met other men who were interested in a wealthy heiress.  "I have a
question to ask of you," he said abruptly.  "Do you hate this horrid business
as much as I do?"

 "Horrid business?"   asked Trish, startled.   "What horrid business?"

"This marriage market," he told her, serious for once, his usual carefree air
quite gone.  "All these meetings arranged for us to get to know one another
because our fortunes  match.  Forgive me for being frank, but I believe that
you feel the same about it as I do--distaste."  Trish stared at him.  "You
mean that you are not dying of love for me?"  she asked him mockingly.
"Exactly.

Oh, I like you, I like talking to you, and if we had met in the normal way
liking might have become something more, but as it is.  " He shrugged.  "
It's all so cold- blooded.  If I have of fended you, please tell me and I
will apologise.  " " No, you haven't of fended me.  I merely wondered whether
you were genuinely interested in me, and if you were how to let you down
without hurting you--as it is--' "Good," he said eagerly.  "And I was afraid
of hurting you.  You see, I have fallen in love with someone entirely
unsuitable--back in Sutherland that is.  Oh, she's a lady, but she's poor,
and Mama is quite adamant that I am to marry wealth.  My whole family is
determined that I shall marry wealth, but what I really want is Lizzie.  All
I can do is refuse everyone paraded before me until Mama realises that I
meant it when I said that I would never give her up."  Trish began to laugh,
and if there was something hysterical in her laughter it was quite
understandable.

"Paraded before you!  And all the time I thought that you were being paraded
before me!"  Harry's face lost something of its desperate look.

He grinned.  "You, too?  Have you a poverty-stricken lover?"  Time to be
honest.  "Yes."

"And for the moment it's hopeless?"   "Very."   "Then we can help one
another."   Trish looked puzzled.   "Don't you see," he explained eagerly,
'that if we pretend to be interested in one another then the parading and the
pressure will stop?   If we're clever enough we can hold them off for the
season and then have a grand falling-out!

 I'm sure that we can be friends if we're determined not to be lovers.  "
This all seemed rather like a society play written by the unfortunate Mr
Oscar Wilde, who had been exiled from England for some mis behaviour which
Trish had not been allowed to understand.

"Decadent," Torry had said evasively.  "He was very decadent.  Probably
something in the air at the end of the century.  We had the French Revolution
at the end of the last one, now we've got decadence.  Mr Wilde, Mr Aubrey
Beardsley and The Yellow Book."  This had all seemed rather vague to Trish,
who thought that Robespierre and Oscar Wilde were not a bit alike, but it was
obviously one of those matters about which young ladies were not expected to
ask questions.  Blaming the end of the century for everything seemed to be a
popular pastime these days.  "We can blame the end of the century for our
falling- out," she remarked, inspired, and then had to tell a puzzled Harry
what she meant.  She left Mr Oscar Wilde out, though, just talked vaguely
about decadence.  "Splendid," he said.  "Now let's go in looking very happy,
and give the company quite the wrong idea of what we've been doing."

Yes, it was all very much like one of the convoluted society novels Mr Henry
James wrote, which were so vague that at the end you were never quite sure
what had happened except that everyone had been very clever and rather wicked
on the way there.  Next time she read one she would ask Alien to explain it,
seeing that, like Mr James, he came from America, too.  Harry seemed quite
resourceful, despite his slangy manner and his rather obvious good looks,
which, a friend had once told her, were a bad thing in men.  He certainly
wasn't  conceited.  But what made Trish really uneasy was that she was now
engaged in two conspiracies at once!  "You got on well with Harry, did you?"
remarked kind Torry when all the guests had gone.  "Very.  He's very pleasant
to talk to."  Now this wasn't a lie, but it did serve to deceive Torry, who,
to give her her due, knew nothing of Gerard's warning off of Alien, nor of
Trish's involvement with him.  However, she was pleased to see that Trish and
Harry were apparently interested in one another, and before preparing for bed
she said to Gerard,

"I do believe that the child really likes Harry Norman.  Marriage to him
would settle all her problems."

"And ours," said Gerard dryly, but, remembering his conversation with Alien
that morning, added,

"Do you really think that she's interested in him?"

"Well, she seemed happier with him than with any other young man to whom
she's been introduced."

Happier than with Alien Marriott?  Gerard would have liked to ask her, but
didn't.  Although he told himself that he had done the right thing in
reprimanding his cousin, something about the whole episode disturbed him to
the degree that he had.  not told Torry about it.  He was not certain that
she would have approved of what he had done, even though he was sure that it
was in Trish's best interests.  Trish, meanwhile, was busy hoping that Alien
wouldn't mistake her and Harry's play-acting at being lovers for the real
thing before she had had time to tell him about it.  On the very first day
after the dinner party Harry came to call and asked if he might drive her to
Hyde Park--he had two new horses to show her.  "It's the most splendid
wheeze," he told her excitedly, once they were alone together.  "It will be
quite a declaration of intent for us to be seen together this afternoon.  My
mother was on her highest ropes when I told her that it was  my intention to
take you there--if you agreed, of course.  I've always refused to oblige her
with all the other girls she's trotted out for me to inspect.  I feel a bit
of a cad for deceiving her, but she's been so persistent I've no
alternative."

 "My sentiments exactly,"

murmured Trish.  "I shall have to deceive Gerard and Torry if I am to see my
young man, and my only excuse is that they've driven me to it."

"Sad, isn't it?"  said Harry, melancholy written all over his usually jolly
young face.  "And they are driving us to it with the best of intentions, I'm
sure."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, they say."   "Exactly,"
Harry agreed.   "I say, these chestnuts of mine are rather splendid, aren't
they?   Got them for a bit of a song from a young fellow who had gone
bankrupt.   Too much betting on the wrong sort of gee-gees, I fear."   The
more she was with Harry the more Trish liked him--'- and the less she thought
that she could ever have married him, since he was the exact opposite of
Alien.   Something which she told him when they next met at Mr Nance's.   In
order to spend the day with him Trish had found it necessary to embark on yet
another conspiracy.   Her particular friend in London was Miss Lucy Chalfont,
whose family lived in a fine house just off the far end of Piccadilly
Circus--a most fortunate thing seeing that Mr Nance's shop was quite near.
She frequently spent the day with her, and on her last visit, immediately
after Gerard had forbidden Alien to have anything to do with her, she had
asked Lucy if she would do her a great favour.   Lucy, a rather jolly girl
who was a female version of Harry Norman, had fairly squealed with delight
when Trish had said hesitantly,

"You see, I've made a great friend of a really worthy young man of whom my
guardian doesn't approve because he's poor.  I should like to spend the day 
with him occasionally and I wondered if I could say that I was visiting you
when I was really with him."

"Oh, Trish, don't say you're kicking over the traces at last!   I thought
that you never would.   Of course I'll cover for you.   I did the same thing
for Phyllis Tracy, when Brent- ford was courting her and her parents didn't
approve of him.   Then he came into all that money unexpectedly and they
changed their minds.   They're married now and are quite the lovebirds.   Who
is he?   Is he handsome?"   "Handsome and brave.   Forgive me if I can't tell
you who he is, but I do assure you that you would like him enormously if you
ever met him.   But he must remain my secret for his sake."   Lucy had nearly
exploded with delight.   "How exciting.   Why does nothing like this ever
happen to me?"   she'd wailed.   Yes, she would make a perfect partner for
Harry Norman if he weren't already head over heels in love with some young
lady in Sutherland.   "Oh, thank you, Lucy.   If you ever do need this sort
of help be sure to ask me.   I shall owe you such a debt of gratitude."
"Only think," she told Alien now, a trifle despairingly.   "I'm involved in
three conspiracies at once."   "Three?"

queried Alien, raising his eyebrows at her.  "Which is the third?"  They were
in Mr Nance's workroom.  Alien was mending a clock and Trish was perched on a
high stool watching him.  She was fascinated by his loupe and had even tried
to wear it--something which proved more difficult than she had expected.
"Mine with Harry Norman."  And it all came tumbling out.  That they had
agreed to pretend to be interested in one another because they were both in
the same boat.

"Ah," said Alien, after a moment's pause while he the gotiated a
particularly tricky bit of repair work.  "That's the blond half-wit whom
you've been accompanying to Hyde Park.  I was beginning to think that you'd
thrown me over.  I was quite relieved when you turned up this morning."

"How did you know that he's a half-wit?   I must admit that he is rather."
Then, anxiously,

"You didn't really think I'd thrown you over--without a word."

"I'm happy to learn that I shall have a word when you do," said Alien
teasingly, putting down the clock's innards.   "As for knowing that he's a
half-wit, something in his expression, plus the fact that I heard him talking
to you in the entrance hall yesterday, told me.   Not one of Scotland's
greatest brains, is he?"   "No, but he's nice.   Which is more than you are.
Alien Marriott, teasing me so relentlessly."   "Oh, but you like it, don't
you?"   he said softly.   "Tell me that you like it.   More than you like
that fellow sweet- talking you."   Trish was rapidly learning how to respond
to Alien's version of flirtation.   She tossed her head and said in a
melancholy voice,

"Goodness me, Alien Marriott, you do take a lot upon yourself.  Suppose I
teased you back.  What would you say then?"

"That / would like it," he told her promptly, before leaning over to give her
a kiss on the cheek.  "And now we must behave ourselves.  Mr Nance's customer
has gone and he will shortly be coming back.  Let him find us behaving
ourselves."  Trish fingered the favoured cheek mournfully.  "Oh, I have no
worries on that score since we never do anything else--unfortunately."  Her
reward was a laugh and a blown kiss.

Mr Nance's reward was to be handed the mended clock when he bustled into the
workroom.  Alien's reward was the satisfaction of a job well done--and
Trish's rosy face.

 "I see you have been working," was all Mr Nance said, eyeing them
knowingly.  "Have you told Trish of our plans for the afternoon?"

"Not yet," said Alien, pulling off his workman's apron.   "I thought that I
would save that for lunch.   We are going to eat it here.   Mr Nance's daily
makes a most superior shepherd's pie, something which I had never heard of
until I came to live here."   "No shepherd's pie in America?"

queried Trish.  "I must confess that I've always known it as nursery food."
She, tactfully, did not add that it had never arrived at any grownup dinner
which she had ever attended.  "Mr Nance's shepherd's pie does not remotely
resemble nursery food, as you will discover when you eat it.  Before that,
for hors d'oeuvres--or starters, as we say in the States--we shall have a
dish of mussels in white wine with new bread and butter.  For dessert, we
shall eat strawberries and cream as a special treat."

"I'm feeling hungry already.   But who will have cooked this splendid
feast?"   "Mr Nance and his daily have prepared everything but the
strawberries, which were my responsibility.   While he has improved my
culinary knowledge I cannot hope to equal him in that department.   It's his
French ancestry coming out, of course."   "French ancestry?"   Trish looked
puzzled, so Alien explained to her the origin of Mr Nance's name.   "How
interesting!   What a cosmopolitan trio we are," she added.   "You are an
American, I am English and Mr Nance is of French extraction--between us we
could organise an international conference like the one which Gerard and Lord
Moidore were speaking of the other week."   "Well, I propose that this
cosmopolitan trio adjourns to the kitchen," Alien said.   He had resumed his
dark jacket, which Trish deplored a little.   She thought that he looked
even more handsome in his shirtsleeves.   How strange and interesting it was
that Harry Norman, who was completely every young girl's beau ideal so far as
looks went, didn't touch her heart at all, while Alien's serious, closed, if
handsome face had it skipping a beat every time that she looked at him.   He
gave her his hand to help her down from the stool, and, just as his kiss had
sent tremors through her, the touch of it set her shivering.   Was touching
her doing strange things to him as well?   Not for the first time Trish
resented the fact that as a young woman of good family she was not allowed to
know anything about the realities of what went on between young men and women
in love, or how they behaved after they were married.   Light flirtation was
permitted, but it was never carried on between equals, because most of the
young men were experienced and very few of the young women were other than
innocent.   It was something which the so-called New Women were always
complaining about, and Trish was beginning to see what they meant.   Simply
to be with Alien was exciting, particularly when she was with him in Mr
Nance's kitchen, where the table was already set for three.   To begin with
she was offered a steaming tureen of mussels in white wine from which she
ladled her share into a large soup plate.   To eat with them was a loaf of
bread, ready sliced, lying on a round wooden board with a crock of butter
beside it.   After she had enjoyed the mussels Mr Nance placed on the snowy
cloth a brown glazed pie dish in which reposed the shepherd's pie, its top a
bright gold mixture of butter and cheese, and another dish in which a noble
cauliflower lay, dressed in a cream sauce.   Next he placed reverently before
her a small silver gravy boat.   For his final offering Mr Nance lifted from
the hearth a bottle of red wine which he had placed there earlier to bring
it to room temperature.   "In your honour, my dear," he told her solemnly,
pouring it into the glass which stood by her plate.   "Alien and I are always
finding little excuses in order to treat ourselves, but we needed no excuse
today."   The strawberries had been dressed with fine sugar and were served
with another little silver boat full of cream.   A plate of shortbread
biscuits was handed around to eat with them.   The food was simple, but, as
Alien had promised, delicious.   Trish was never to forget this meal with
him, away from the grandeur of Park Lane.   That Mr Nance acted as a kind
chaperon troubled her not at all.

She ate and drank heartily, with none of the fine-lady finicky ness which both
Alien and Mr Nance had secretly feared she might be cursed with.  The very
simplicity of the meal charmed her.  She was used to footmen and butlers, to
a table elaborately laid, with a huge epergne in the middle of it on which
every sort of fruit, both in and out of season, was elaborately arranged.
Sometimes smilax and ferns were trailed across the tablecloth.  Her napkin
was always of the heaviest damask, held inside a silver ring with the letter

"S' engraved on it.

The plates were of the finest porcelain, the cutlery was silver, and the
three or four glasses which stood by her plate were miracles of the
glassblower's craft.  In other words, she suddenly realised, the table itself
was a work of art, as was the food laid upon it.  Even when the Schuylers
dined alone the meal was never simple in the way in which Mr Nance's was.
During the meal the three of them laughed and talked together.  Trish,
fascinated by what she had seen in the workroom, asked questions about
clock making, which both men eagerly answered.  Mr Nance leaned forward at the
end of one explanation and said confidentially,

"He's such a modest chap that I'm sure Alien hasn't told you that he's been
asked to give a paper to the British Horological Institute on the further
possibilities of using electricity as a way of refining the accuracy and
running time of clocks.  I keep telling him he's wasted as a mere
secretary--his mathematical knowledge is extraordinary."  Alien said, "Come,
come, sir, you exaggerate.  Trish must not think that I am a prodigy."  What
Trish was thinking was that when Gerard had spoken of the further uses of
electricity in time-keeping, Alien had been very non-committal, speaking as
though he was referring to someone else, when all the time he must already
have been writing his paper.  "If you wanted money to develop your ideas,"
she said thoughtfully, 'then perhaps Gerard might be interested in financing
you.  After all, he has a finger in a large number of pies.  Torry told me
that he has invested a great deal of money in this new underground line which
is due to open next year.  I believe she said that it would be an electric
one.  " To her surprise Alien's face, hitherto softer and more carefree than
she had ever seen it at Park Lane, assumed the frozen look common to it
there.  " No," he said shortly, 'by no means.  Besides, my ideas are as yet
very speculative--as I believe I told Lord Moidore at dinner."  Mr Nance said
hurriedly,

"So your guardian is one of the rich Americans behind the Central Line which
is going to make all our lives easier.

The motor car is beginning to drive out the horse-drawn cabs and trams; the
new underground will surely finish them off.  " " At least the streets will
be cleaner when the horses are gone," said Alien, smiling at Trish, his good
humour restored.  She wondered at the note of hostility in his voice when he
had mentioned Gerard: she had understood from Torry that he and his new
secretary worked well together.  The shepherd's pie finished, Mr Nance
fetched out the strawberries, and after they had eaten every one of them they
sat and talked companionably over a pot of coffee.  Finally Alien wiped his
mouth on his coarse cotton table napkin and said to her,

"You have most heroically never asked what Mr Nance and I propose for you
this afternoon, and your reward is that I shall tantalise you no longer.  We
decided that you have probably never visited a Music Hall, and, since there
is a matinee today, we have bought tickets for you to be entertained by Miss
Marie Lloyd.  You have heard of her?"  Yes, Trish had heard of her, but had
never thought that she might be able to see her.  First, though, the pots had
to be washed, dried and put away.  Alien had assumed his apron again, and did
the washing up while she and Mr Nance dried them.  And then it was time to
visit the Music Hall, something which Trish had never done before, and indeed
had never thought she would do.

Chapter Six W e're going to the Canterbury Theatre on the other side of the
river," Alien told Trish while they queued for the horse-drawn bus--another
new experience for Trish.  " It's not quite as respectable as the ones in the
West End, but it's more like the real thing, and the atmosphere is
remarkable.  Isn't that so, sir?  " " True," agreed Mr Nance, who was
privately a little worried as to what such a gently bred creature as Miss
Patricia Courtney might make of visiting a Music Hall.

On the other hand the Prince of Wales frequently visited them; consequently
one had to suppose that it was not too infra dig for her to be seen there.
Trish was too excited to care whether it was beneath her dignity or not.
After all, here they were at the end of an old century, ready to move into a
new one when everything would surely change, particularly everything which
stood in the way of young women living as free a life as young men.  After
all, young ladies had become doctors and were going to university on equal
terms with men--and it would surely soon be quite the thing for them to
travel on a horse drawn bus to visit a Music Hall with their young man--
particularly if an elderly chaperon went with them.

 In her excitement Trish had, for the first time, thought of Alien as her
young man, and she was still digesting the implications of this when the bus
arrived.  As it was full downstairs they climbed up the winding staircase to
the top, where Trish had a splendid view of Piccadilly quite unlike anything
she had ever seen before, and an even more splendid view of the River Thames
when they crossed it.  Although it was a sunny day the wind was blowing quite
hard, and Alien advised Trish to hold on to her hat.  It was all completely
different from her usually stately journeys across London with Gerard and
Torry, or even in the quiet privacy of the Hansom cab which usually conveyed
her from door to door.  Even when she had travelled in that newfangled
thing--Gerard's motor car--she had never experienced anything like this
journey with Alien, who was surreptitiously holding her hand and occasionally
pressing it gently.  Once he said in his quiet voice,

"I

hope that you are enjoying yourself as much as I am.  " " Oh, yes," she told
him eagerly, her violet eyes shining so brightly at him that, had they been
alone, he would have taken her in his arms and kissed her.

But here, in the public eye, on top of the bus, he was unable to do anything
more than squeeze her hand again and yearn hopelessly for her.

They left the bus a little way short of the theatre.  Alien had told her that
in the early days of the Music Hall the ground floor had been a cross between
a public bar and a restaurant with a stage at one end.

The spectators had been confined to a gallery above and around it.  Over the
years it had been rebuilt to resemble a normal theatre, and Alien had booked
three seats in the pit which had replaced the bar.  "I thought of hiring a
box," he said, 'but the atmosphere is much better down here among the crowd.
" Inside, Trish found that the Canterbury was as splendid as the West End
theatres where she had enjoyed seeing Mr Henry Irving, Mr Beerbohm Tree, Miss
Ellen Terry and Mrs Patrick Campbell.  Everything was covered in gilt, and
what wasn't gilded was scarlet.  The stage was huge, and the orchestra seated
before it was as large and accomplished as any as she had heard before.  The
audience was noisier, though, showing not only its appreciation but also its
disdain, by booing and hissing when an act failed to live up to its
expectations.  A pair of cross-talk comedians would come on first, to warm up
the audience, Alien whispered to her, in order to make them feel so merry
that they wouldn't be over-critical of the acts which followed.  She was
sitting between him and Mr Nance, her hand was in Alien's once again, and all
through that happy afternoon she joined whole-heartedly in the laughter and
cheers with which most of the acts were greeted.  After the comedians,
dancing girls came on and performed a lively and daring act involving a lot
of high-kicking which revealed their frilly pantalettes and their black silk
stockings.  Higher and higher and faster and faster they kicked, to the
accompaniment of the jolliest music which Trish had ever heard--the audience
clapped and shouted in time to each kick and Trish found herself doing the
same.  " The dance is called the cancan," Alien told her.  " It was
originally performed at the Folies Bergere, a Paris Music Hall, and it's
supposed to be frightfully naughty.  " " Ought I to be watching it?  " Trish
whispered back.  " Probably not," Alien returned.  " But it's too late to
worry about that now.  " It was too late to be worried about anything.  A
magician followed the girls, and to make his act even more exciting and
mysterious he combined it with having a ventriloquist's dummy which
criticised everything he did.  Jokes flew thick and fast, particularly when
the magician's tricks failed.

Trish found many of the jokes incomprehensible, but since the spectators
around them were weeping with laughter there must be some point to them which
she was missing.  The jugglers and the acrobats were more straightforward,
but after that the audience grew even noisier and began to shout impatiently
for Marie Lloyd to appear.

Trish had been expecting someone very beautiful, rather like the singers she
had seen in the musical comedies which she had visited with Gerard and Torry,
but Miss Lloyd was quite plain.  Somehow that didn't matter when she began to
sing and joke with the audience, winking at them and occasionally playfully
shaking her fist when laughter drowned her next words.  Her songs were nearly
as mysterious to Trish as the jokes of the magician and the comedians had
been.  They all seemed to have very odd titles which resulted in gales of
laughter when she announced them.  One song in particular had the whole place
in an uproar.  It was called

"She's Never had her Ticket Punched Before," and when Miss Lloyd sang it she
brought the house down--Alien's phrase.

Trish dutifully laughed as Miss Lloyd sang, winked and nodded her way to the
end of her act, although at what she would have found it hard to explain.
She whispered to Alien when the song about the girl on the bus came to an end,

"Why did everyone find that funny?"  He stopped laughing to gaze at her
charmingly puzzled face, and this time he did kiss her, on the cheek, saying,

"One day, some time in the future, when you are ready, I'll explain.  But not
now."

"Now that," hissed Trish loftily, 'is no explanation at all!   " She
supposed that, like the fuss surrounding Oscar Wilde, it was something to do
with the secret business which passed between men and women.   Next time she
was with Lucy she would ask her if she knew anything about it.   All in all
it would be a good thing when the next century arrived, allowing the New
Woman to come into her own and not be left in shaming ignorance.   Alien,
sensing that she was a little upset, whispered,

"Dear girl, I did not mean to demean you, but it would be wrong of me to
enlighten you now."  This didn't help matters, but was some sort of apology,
Trish supposed.  She forgot her annoyance when the dancing girls were joined
by some dancing men in a grand finale in which Union Jacks were waved and the
company sang,

"We don't want to fight, but by jingo if we do, we've got the ships, we've
got the men, we've got the money, too."  Mr Nance, who had overheard the
little dialogue between Trish and Alien, shook his head and wondered again
whether they ought to have brought Trish into such a den of iniquity as a
Music Hall, but when he saw her happy, glowing face after the curtain went
down and the lights went up, he lost his reservations.  It was, he concluded,
very silly to bring up young ladies in such dreadful ignorance of the real
world in which they lived, and it was no wonder that so many marriages among
the upper classes were doomed to failure when the women went to them as
helpless innocents while the men, on the contrary, were sexually experienced.
He knew that Alien would never take advantage of his pretty girl, and that
he would, on the contrary, gently initiate Trish into the realities of love
between men and women--or, to put it into blunt terms, the realities of sex
and passion.  Outside, anonymous in the happy crowd which streamed out of the
theatre, Trish found that she was still holding Alien's hand.

"What now?"  he asked her.  "A cup of tea and a bun at an ABC?  And then a
cab to take you back to Park Lane?"

"Why can't I go home and take tea with you and Mr Nance?"   she said,
offering Alien the best thanks she could have given him by wishing to return
to what, to her, must seem Mr Nance's humble home.   "Because," he said in
his grave, sensible voice, 'it would not be wise for you to be away from Park
Lane too long.

Another time, perhaps.  " " Oh, please," Trish said.  " You are asking for
another time?  " Trish slipped her hand out of his and turned to face him.  "
If Mr Nance will allow and you are willing, that is.  " " Dear girl," he
replied, longing to take her into his arms, 'of course he will allow, and I
am always willing, but remember, the choice is always yours, for you are
taking the most risks by meeting me clandestinely."

"No!"  Trish returned passionately.  "It is you who are most at risk, for I
am certain that if Gerard knew that we were meeting like this he would
dismiss you immediately--so the choice must be yours.  I cannot lightly ruin
you by losing you your employment."  Oblivious of Mr Nance, as well as the
surrounding crowd, Alien took both her hands in his to say,

"Oh, you are gallant, my darling heart, but remember that the world in which
you live would argue that you are the one most likely to be ruined; let me
tell you this now: I will never do anything to betray or hurt you, and I call
upon Mr Nance to bear witness to what I have just said and help me to stay on
the straight and narrow path of honour where you are concerned."  Even though
he spoke in his usual quiet manner there was such impassioned conviction
lying beneath it that both his hearers were moved.  The crowd swirled about
them.  They were both far from home, Trish particularly so, but home was
here, together.

Later, back in Park Lane, Trish was to recall that moment and think of what
Ruth had said to Naomi in the Bible: "Whither thou go est, I will go," and
know that those touching words tmly described her overwhelming feelings for
Alien.  At the time, though, she simply smiled at him and said,

"Since I first met you I have never doubted that you would ever behave other
than honourably.

Alien.  " " You honour me by saying that," he told her, and took her hand
again to lead her to where the horse bus waited to carry them back across the
river to drink tea in a small ABC before he and Mr Nance saw her into a cab.
Irish's one regret was that she could not take her programme home, but Alien
made her a solemn promise that he would keep it safe for her as a souvenir of
the first time that they had gone out together.  He and Mr Nance watched the
cab drive off.  Mr Nance said, " I know you well enough.  Alien, to be sure
that you will keep your promise to Trish.  You have found a pearl in a most
unlikely place.

Rich girls such as she is are usually spoiled creatures not worthy of your
attention.  " Alien nodded his agreement.  " She told me not long ago that
she had nursed her mother through a long illness, something which, to me,
explains why she is quite different from most society girls.  "

Later that evening, returning to Park Lane, he arrived in the entrance hall
just as Gerard, Torry and Trish were coming out of the dining room.  Trish
looked particularly enchanting in a young woman's white dress decorated with
silk snowdrops.  Gerard said,

"Early back, Marriott?"  his tone indifferent.  Alien, trying to avoid
Trish's eye, or anyone else's for that matter, said equally indifferently,

"I was a little tired, Sir Gerard, and thought it unwise to be too late
turning in."

"Most commendable."   Gerard's tone was now dry rather than critical, and
its hint of unspoken patronage set Trish's teeth on edge.

She was in no position to say anything, and she could not even give Alien an
encouraging smile.  Not that he seemed to mind, and, as ever, there was
nothing servile about him.  He always stood, his face impassive, quite erect,
his head a little on one side as though he were thinking of something far
removed from what was being said to him.  Trish could not help contrasting
his frozen, sphinx-like expression with the cheerful animation of the man who
had sat by her at the Canterbury Theatre, teasing her and enjoying the jokes
which she had thought mysterious.  What had that man to do with this one?
Only later, when she was alone in her room, a little puzzled, did Trish ask
herself a question: was she wrong to imagine that there was some unspoken
hostility between Gerard and his secretary--and, if she was right, why should
that be.  Since she could come up with no convincing answer to her question
she dismissed it from her mind and thought instead of her happy day, and,
with the memory of her hand in Alien's, drifted into sleep, a smile on her
face.  Summer arrived, and Alien and Trish met most weeks at Mr Nance's shop
and with Lucy's help managed not to arouse suspicion.  Sometimes they simply
spent the day at the shop, with Alien busy at the workbench doing a necessary
repair which Mr Nance's failing sight left him unable to complete.  Trish was
either sitting nearby, busily engaged in minor household chores such as
mending Mr Nance's socks, or leaving him in order to perform some other
necessary task around the little house.  On one wet afternoon she insisted on
polishing all the silver ornaments which were part of Mr Nance's stock, as
well as his own small pieces of silver which had grown tarnished.  "You will
ruin your hands," he told her once, finding her in the kitchen washing the
lace curtains which hung over the small window above the sink.  "I don't like
being idle when you are both working," she  told him simply.  "I am not a
fine lady here.  I can cover them with cream when I go back to Park Lane."
Several times Alien and Mr Nance took her shopping in Covent Garden.  When
their baskets were full of fruit and vegetables, they visited one of the
little booths where coffee, tea and small cakes were served, as well as
strong drink.  After a few weeks had passed Mr Nance trusted Alien enough to
allow him to take Trish about London on his own, while he stayed behind to
prepare their supper, which Trish enjoyed with them, refusing dinner when she
returned to Park Lane on the grounds that she had already eaten.  One
evening, after their meal.  Alien went upstairs and came down with a largeish
box.  "Guess what's in it," he asked her.  He was always teasing her by
making her play the little word games which he had enjoyed as a boy.
"They're designed to broaden the mind," he had told her once.  , She had
teased him back with,

"Mine isn't broadened enough, then?"  Now, used to such ploys, she pretended
to think very hard before saying,

"A grand piano?"  Alien began to laugh.  "Very near.

It is a musical instrument, but far from a grand one.  Since you were almost
right, I will tell you.  It's a concertina.  " " A concertina!  "

Trish exclaimed.  "I thought that only Pierrots played them--on the pier at
Brighton."

"I'll have you know I learned to play this at the Glee Club at Yale," Alien
told her.   "I was regarded as a complete master of it.   I thought once of a
career on the Burlesque Halls in New York--Musical Halls to you.   I do a
nice line in hillbilly songs and spirituals--the ones the slaves used to sing
on the Southern plantations.   I changed my mind when I found out what the
pay was."

"Worse than at Schuyler's?"

 "Oh, very much worse--and the hours were rotten, too."

By now he had fetched the instrument from its box and had begun to play and
sing in a light baritone the song which Marie Lloyd had sung about the
punched ticket.  Trish was entranced.  It was a side of him which she had
never seen before, and when he had finished she said, "You played that by
ear.  That was something I could never do.  I need the music before me to
play the piano."

"I can't read music," Alien told her.   "And the concertina's not a
difficult instrument, like the piano."   He began another song, an American
ballad this time by Stephen Foster called,

"Way Down Upon the Swannee River," which was quite unlike Miss Lloyd's broad
humour, being slow and sad.  Trish found the words quite moving, and so, too,
did Alien, by the way his face changed as he sang it.  A shadow passed across
his face in the last verse, where the singer remembers his lost home and his
lost past.  "All the world is sad and weary," he sang, 'everywhere I roam.  "
He even managed to make the concertina sound solemn, something which Trish
would not have believed possible.  " I had a piano once," Mr Nance grieved
into the silence which followed, 'but I sold it when my wife died."  He did
not tell Trish that he had found the sight of it painful.  He'd often wished
that he still possessed it after he had discovered that it was one of Trish's
accomplishments.  "Enough of melancholy," said Alien briskly.  "I'll play you
a few jolly ones, Trish, to make up for you having to go home early."  Home
is here, she wanted to tell him, and for the first time wondered how their
idyll was going to end.  She had been busy enjoying herself and had quite
forgotten the future.  Something in Alien's voice, or even the words of the
song, had told her that sooner or later they must come to a decision, that
the version of fairyland in which they had been living could not last for
ever.

Indeed, they were lucky that it had lasted so long, that someone had not
seen them or that her arrangement with Lucy had not been discovered.  As she
had seen Alien's face change he had seen hers, and knew the reason why.  He
put the concertina down and knelt by her chair.  "My darling," he said, and
his voice sounded old and wise, 'let us enjoy what we have and pretend that
there is no past and no future.

The Romans had a saying, Carpe Diem, which means Seize the Day!  Let us seize
our day.  I should not have sung that song.  It tells of loss and sorrow.  "
Trish nodded her head slowly.  " How strange it is that we often think alike.
I have never had that happen to me before, but it happens with you all the
time.  " He seized upon her last word.  " Time!

Trish, have you ever thought how odd time is?  When we are happy, and wish it
to last, it flies.  An hour becomes a minute.  When we are sad, the reverse
happens.  A minute becomes an hour.  When we are waiting for something nice
to happen, it seems an eternity, whereas in the dentist's chair things happen
far too quickly.  So it is with us.  Our time together is short--even though
it is the best part of a day.  "

Trish shivered.  "And it grows shorter each time I visit Mr Nance--and you."
"True, and Mr Nance's shop is where time is measured, bought and sold!"

"And you repair it."   "True, also.   Trish, before your season grows too
busy, would you like me to take you to Greenwich Observatory where the
world's time is measured?   I have never asked a girl to do such a thing
before."   This was not strictly true.   He had tried to speak of these
things with the first young woman he had taken out in London, and she had
yawned her boredom at him before he could even propose it.   "If you want to
take me somewhere," she had told him, 'take me to the Gaiety Theatre, to see
the new musical comedy there.   " It was not that he did not enjoy going to
the Gaiety, but he had hoped to meet someone who might share his other
enthusiasms, and until he had met Trish he had never found anyone who
would--or could.   And all as the result of a railway accident--which
reminded him that chance, as well as time, runs our lives.   " Of course, I
would.   Alien.   You know, I never thought about clocks or time before, but
what with the end of the century coming, and getting to know you and Mr
Nance, watching you repairing things and talking together, I have become
quite intrigued.   I still think that you ought to tell Gerard about your--'
She stopped, because Alien's face had taken on that frozen look again, which
turned him immediately into the man whom Park Lane and the world outside Mr
Nance's shop knew.

"No," she said rapidly.  "I shouldn't interfere.  Except that I know that he
doesn't value you properly, and he ought to."

"That doesn't matter," he told her, his face softening again.   "That you
value me, and that Mr Nance does, is what matters.   Now forgive me if I tell
you that I don't care a fig for his opinion of me."   He meant it, Trish was
sure, and once again she wondered what lay between her guardian, whom she
respected and liked, and the man whom she respected and loved.   She said no
more, but concentrated instead on enjoying her brief hours of freedom--not
that living at Park Lane could really be described as servitude!   Alien was
not finding his duties at Park Lane servitude.

Gerard was a considerate master, although Alien preferred not to think of how
his cousin would have behaved had he proved to be an incompetent secretary.

Tales about Gerard's legendary temper were always circulating excitedly
around the London headquarters of Schuyler Incorporated.  Thus far, Gerard
had always treated him with cold courtesy, often asking him to carry out
delicate tasks which he would not have entrusted to Mr Hall.  On this
particular morning he had been sent to Rothschild's, where he had received a
warm welcome--indeed, he had been told that he would have had an even warmer
one had he decided to change his mind and work for them.  His mission over,
he made his way back to Park Lane.

Gerard was attending a meeting of a Parliamentary committee and was staying
on at the House to take part in a debate.  He was met in the entrance hall by
one of the footmen-- the butler, it seemed, had just gone off duty.  The
footman took his hat and coat from him, and then said in a confidential voice,

"I thought, sir, that you would like to know, that Mr Hall, Sir Gerard's
former secretary, called some little time ago.  He was hoping to see either
you or Sir Gerard.  The butler received him and saw fit to tell him to wait
in the office for you, rather than in the drawing room.  I thought you ought
to know."  What Alien did not know was that the dislike which most of the
staff had originally felt for the aloof and quiet young man who had succeeded
the jovial Mr Hall had disappeared.  His courteous and considerate manner had
won everyone over but the butler, who had taken him in great dislike.  "He's
always so pleasant," one of the maids had said over afternoon tea.  "Mr Hall
was all right, but you never knew when you was going to have to dodge his
hands--if you take my meaning.  I prefer 'em quiet myself--it's safer."
General agreement had followed from everyone except the butler, who had
snorted,

"Too quiet for my liking.  I  thought once he was after Miss Courtney, but
not any more.  I'd take him for a bit of a soft Miss Molly, myself."  To his
surprise he had been met with a chorus of dissent.  Wade, the senior footman
had said, "You wouldn't think that he was soft if you'd seen him when the
pantry boy fell out of the tree in the back garden.  He not only picked him
up, but he carried the great lummox into the house as though he'd been a
baby--and when he got him there looked after his broken leg until the doctor
came.  On top of that the lad told me afterwards that the housekeeper wanted
Sir Gerard to turn him off for larking about when he was supposed to be at
work, but Mr Marriott told him that boys will be boys, and he'd had a nasty
lesson, so Sir Gerard changed his mind and let him off with a warning.  " As
for being a Miss Molly--no Miss Molly looks at Miss Courtney the way he does
when he thinks no one's a-noticing of him.  " The butler had muttered
something under his breath, but the staffs defiance of his judgement--which
was usually respected--had done nothing to endear Alien to him.  " Thinks
he's a gent, I suppose," he'd muttered.  " Still dangling after her, eh?
Let's see what Sir Gerard has to say about that.  " " Nothing," Wade had said
stoutly, 'seeing as how I should deny I ever said any such thing!"  The
butler had given up, but remained quietly determined to do young Marriott a
mischief the first chance he got.  Alien thanked the footman now, and made
his way to the office as quickly as he could without appearing over- hasty
and causing more gossip.  He reached the closed door, hesitated a moment
before opening it as quietly as he could before entering.  It was quite plain
that Mr Hall had not heard him.

Alien had left some files on his desk and Mr Hall was bent over, busily
going through them.  He wondered whether the man had bribed the butler to let
him into the office, although he now had no business there, or whether, given
the butler's antagonism, it had not been necessary.  He silently turned
around and noisily opened and closed the door as though he were only just
entering which, by the time he turned back, enabled Mr Hall to spring away
and sink into a chair by the desk as though he had been seated there ever
since the butler had shown in him.  "Ah," exclaimed Mr Hall jovially, leaping
to his feet and saying, "Mr Marriott, I presume?"  Alien inclined his head a
little and said in his quietest voice,

"Indeed, and you, I take it, are Mr Hall, my predecessor.  What may I do for
you?"  Mr Hall spread expansive hands.

"Nothing, nothing--a courtesy call, merely.  I am, as you may know, now
retired.  I inherited a comfortable little estate from a distant cousin and
am become a man of leisure."  By now Alien had made his way to his desk,
where he stood for a moment before seating himself and waving a hand at Mr
Hall to indicate that he might do the same.  It pleased him to offer himself
as almost a parody of the industrious clerk by leaning forward, steepling his
hands, and murmuring,

"Since, however, I am not a man of leisure, and Sir Gerard has handed me
duties which I must accomplish before the evening, your social call must, I
fear, be a short one."  He heaved a heavy sigh, looked down at his files and
prepared to pick one up.  His only regret in carrying out this pantomime was
that he did not possess a pair of pincenez which he could perch on his nose
to inspect the dubious fellow in front of him.

Courtesy call, indeed!  And looking through my papers.  He must think that I
am a pigeon for the plucking!  What Mr Hall thought was not plain.  He
rewarded Alien with a condescending smile, asking him kindly,

"You have no questions, then, which you would care to put to me regarding the
records I have kept?"

"None," returned Alien, re-steepling his hands.   "Your records are as clear
as crystal to me--even though the system which you used was quite different
from mine.   Nothing which you could tell me would surprise me--quite the
contrary."   This superb piece of double-meaning either deceived Mr Hall or
he allowed it to pass him by.   "Splendid!"

he announced.  "I am delighted that Sir Gerard has been fortunate to find
such a suitable replacement for me."  Alien inclined his head again.  "I
thank you, sir, and now, if you.  have nothing further to say to me, and
since Sir Gerard will not be returning before the evening, I suggest that
this interview be terminated."  This, at least, had the effect of distressing
Mr Hall.  His air of patronage disappeared; he stammered a little, Th .  had
thought.  " " Yes?  " Alien inclined his head again.  " That you might take
coffee, perhaps, before you left?  " " Oh, quite.  Very gracious.  You must
be wishing for a break yourself.  The butler informed me that you have spent
the morning at Rothschild's.  " " You mistake.  I drank sherry with young Mr
Nathan not long ago.  No, I shall ring for the butler and ask him to serve
you in the library.  Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do, and the
library is more comfortable than this office as I am sure you are aware.
Good day, sir.  " He picked up his pen, waved at the door, and, as he had
promised, rang for the butler.  With suppressed ill-grace concealed behind a
weak smile, Mr Hall disappeared through the door to the library with a
muttered,

"Good day, Marriott."

Once he was safely gone Alien leafed rapidly through the files on his desk
which Mr Hall had been inspecting.  He could not be sure that nothing had
been removed, and he had no notion of what Mr Hall had been trying to find.
What he did know was that all his suspicions regarding the man's honesty--or
rather his lack of it--now seemed to be grounded on more than mere
speculation.  The trouble was that he still had nothing tangible to offer Sir
Gerard which might convince him that a man who had been described as 'part of
the family' had been swindling him in some fashion yet to be discovered.
Trish had spent much of the morning in the nursery with Gerry Junior and
Hans, two lively small boys who already bore a strong likeness to their
dominant father.  Their mother had gone to visit a friend whom she wished to
take part in one of her many charitable enterprises set up to assist poor
women.  Nurse finally drove her away, politely, of course, saying that Master
Gerry and his brother had had enough excitement for one morning.  Left at a
loose end, she had decided to visit the library to discover whether it had
any books on clock making and time.  It would, she decided, be useful to know
a little more about the subjects in which Alien and Mr Nance were interested.
Since Dr Ryan, the librarian, was spending the morning at the British
Museum, she had the pleasure of browsing unchecked among the shelves.  She
soon found an interesting old book about clocks and was carefully turning its
yellowed pages when she heard someone come into the room.  Looking across
from where she was hidden in a narrow bay lit by a window, she saw that it
was Mr Hall, Gerard's late secretary.  Like the maid who had disliked his
roving hands, Trish had disliked his roving eyes.  Jovial he might be, but it
was  not the kind of joviality of which she approved, so she kept quiet,
reading her book and turning its pages silently.  Shortly afterwards someone
else entered.  By his voice it was the butler, who had evidently brought
coffee for Mr Hall.  She was about to make it known that she was present when
the butler said sligh tingly,

"He's made you have it on your own, has he?  A right stuck-up young gent is
Master Marriott.  Not one for a kind word to me--as you were."  Mr Hall gave
a sneering laugh.  "Not one for a kind word with anyone, if you ask me.

Practically threw me out of the office--you'd never think I'd been Sir
Gerard's trusted man for so many years.  " " Sounds just like him, it does.
You take both sugar and cream, don't you?  " " Fancy your remembering that!
" exclaimed Mr Hall, nattered.  " Yes, both.  " Their demeaning of Alien kept
Trish silent.  She shrank back into her niche, wishing herself anywhere but
where she was.  Perhaps the butler would leave soon--she had no wish to
overhear any more, and disliked being an eavesdropper, but to reveal herself
and thus disclose what she had overheard would not make the butler love Alien
the more.  That she was right to keep quiet was quickly proved.  In answer to
Mr Hall the butler replied,

"Aye, I don't forget my friends.  Especially those who have benefited me--if
you take my meaning."  Mr Hall's response was quick.  "Then perhaps you
wouldn't mind assisting me again--for a consideration."

"Anything to oblige, sir," "Then you could keep a weather eye on young
Marriott and let me know anything which might benefit me.   I didn't like the
tone he took with me.   I wouldn't like Sir Gerard to think any of the less
of me on account of what he might be saying to him.   Besides that, if you
know of anything to his detriment you might let me know of that, too."   "Oh,
I know something already.   He's after Miss Court- they, the smarmy young
devil that he is.   Sir Gerard ordered him to have nothing to do with her,
but I have my suspicions about them.   He's been altogether too quiet and
she's a wilful young piece.   From something my head footman said it wouldn't
surprise me if they were meeting behind Sir Gerard's back."   "Right, find
out what you can and let me know.   Here's my address and a little something
on account for you."   "Thank you, sir.   I always knows a true gent when I
meet one--but what do you expect from a damned Yankee who tries to sound like
an Englishman?"   Mr Hall laughed.   The butler echoed him and left.   Trish,
sitting silent in her corner, seethed inwardly.

Eavesdropping might be very much not the done thing, but she had learned
something useful from it and therefore could not regret her involuntary fall
from perfect social grace.  She waited until she heard Mr Hall leave before
replacing the book on its shelf and walking over to knock on the door to the
office.  Alien looked up at the sound and wondered who next was coming to
interrupt him.  He called out,

"Enter,"

and put his pen down.  The sight of Trish coming through the door filled him
with joy.  Words flew from him.  "Yes, my dearest, what is it you want?"  My
dearest!  He had already called her his darling, and now he had called her
his dearest.  Trish was so pleased that she almost forgot what she had come
to tell him.  He was waving her to a seat and saying,

"I think that we are safe for the moment.  Sir Gerard will not be back until
the evening.  Mr Hall was in the library, but I suspect that he has gone by
now."

"Yes, he has, and that is why I came to see you immediately he left.  I was
there, reading that book about clocks of which you spoke, when he came in.
By good luck he didn't see me, for I had no wish to speak to him.  Shortly
afterwards the butler brought him coffee and they had a most disagreeable
conversation about you--and later about me.  " They were obviously cronies of
a sort, and Mr Hall had been paying him for information when he worked here.
They didn't say what about.  After being unkind about you Mr Hall offered the
butler money for anything which he knew to your detriment, whereupon he told
him about us!  By what he said the butler even suspects that we might be
meeting secretly, and Mr Hall gave him money for that.  "Oh, Alien, we must
be careful--I do hope that you don't think that I might be making something
out of nothing."  Alien came round the desk and took her hands in his.  "I
don't think anything of the sort, and I agree that we must be careful.  But
tell me, did he say anything else--anything to do with my work?"

"Yes, and that was odd.   Mr Hall thought that you might be saying unkind
things about him to Sir Gerard.   Why should he think that?"   Alien knew
perfectly well why Mr Hall should be worried about what he might say to Sir
Gerard, but since he had no evidence to back his suspicions he felt that it
would not be fair to tell Trish of them.

"I'm not sure," he said.  "Perhaps he judges others by himself."

"I suppose he might.   He sounded very vindictive.   What I don't understand
is how, if he only met you this morning, he could dislike you so much."

"Jealousy?"  Alien suggested.  "After all, he worked for Sir Gerard for quite
a long time."  More and more what Trish was telling him supported his belief
that there had been something wrong with Mr Hall's recent stewardship.  Trish
seemed satisfied with his last explanation.  She rose and said sadly,

"I really ought not to stay here any longer.  I've no doubt that we are under
surveillance by the servants, and we must not be seen to be meeting when Sir
Gerard is not here."  She heaved a great sigh.  "Oh, Alien, I do dislike this
secrecy, but what else can we do if we wish to meet?  The annoying thing is
that Harry will be calling this afternoon to take me driving in the Park, and
no one objects to me meeting him--or even being alone with him.  Quite the
contrary.  And, pleasant though he is, you're worth twenty of him.  He really
hasn't a single idea in his head, and being married to him would be like
being married to--' Here her invention failed her and she fell silent.  " To?
" queried' Alien, teasing her as though they were in Mr Nance's shop.  " I'm
sure I don't know.  I can't say the village idiot, because he's not an idiot,
just not interested in anything which interests me.  " What she couldn't say,
but was implicit in everything she had ever said to Alien, was that the sense
of excitement which being with someone who was the other half of one's self
gave her was quite missing when she was with Harry.  " To be fair to him,"
she added ruefully, 'he must think the same of me.  I'm not interested in his
world, either.  For us to marry would be a recipe for disaster."  Alien could
not but agree with her.  All the same, the news that she was going out with
Harry and would be seen with him in the Park roused a tiny demon of jealousy
in his heart.  He remained outwardly calm, but inwardly he was filled with
the most bitter regret that he could not yet proclaim his love for her to all
the world.  He could only hope and pray that somehow, some time, the world
would turn and bring that day to him.

Chapter Seven Once Trish would have thought that to be driven along Rotten
Row on a fine summer afternoon by a handsome young man of future title would
have been the ultimate of her ambitions--society conquered and the prospect
of a wealthy marriage before her.  She would never have thought that when the
dream became reality it would be like dust and ashes in her mouth.  First of
all the appearance of mutual affection which she and Harry gave off was
nothing but a sham, and secondly, and more importantly, she was unable to
acknowledge publicly the man she loved for fear of depriving him of his
livelihood.  More than once she had thought to hint to him that there was no
need for him to worry about his future: her fortune was sufficiently large
that were they to marry it would easily support them both in great luxury.
Even the allowance which she received until she reached twenty-five and
gained full control of it would be more than enough to keep them in comfort.
Delicacy, and an intuitive understanding that Alien Marriott was not the sort
of young man who would happily live on his wife's fortune, had kept her
silent.  At some point he would declare himself, and until then she must put
no pressure of any kind on him, however much she loved him-- and wished to
marry him.  He would never ask her to run away with him and marry him
secretly.  Like her, he regretted the necessity to deceive the Schuylers, and
to do more than that would compromise their honour completely.  It was like
being confronted with an insoluble logic puzzle of the kind which appeared in
most magazines these days, usually at the end, away from the stories about
Sherlock Holmes by Mr Conan Doyle, or the historical romances of Alice and
Egerton Castle.  Meantime there was Harry Norman to consider.  He was looking
sideways at her, his expression an admiring one-- which was something which
she did not want.  Over the last few weeks his manner to her had changed.  To
begin with he had treated her as a jolly chum who happened to be a girl, but
lately he had become personal, paying her little compliments.  Earlier that
afternoon when she had met him in the entrance hall he had exclaimed,

"Oh, I say, Trish, you do look a picture--positively deevy."

This last word proved that he was now moving in the circle which surrounded
the Prince of Wales.  "Deevy' was a high society slang word short for divine,
and was the ultimate compliment one could pay to anything.  She had shaken
her head briskly.  " There's nothing divine about me.  Harry.  I'm far too
down to earth.  You ought to save that word for Gaiety girls.  " " I'm not
one for Gaiety girls," Harry had returned a trifle dolefully.  " They never
look as handsome in the street as they do on the stage.  Must be the
limelight that does it.

You look your best in the afternoon.  "

" Not at night in the ballroom?   "

Trish had teased.  Teasing was a habit she had learned from Alien, and using
it against Harry helped her to keep him at arm's length.

Not today, though.  He had started as he meant to go on, praising and
complimenting her, and laughing immoderately at any mild joke which she
happened to make.  Now he said to her,

"How about us taking a walk in the Park?  The groom can look after the
carriage.  It's difficult to talk to you while I'm driving."  Trish didn't
feel that she could refuse him.  After all, they were supposed to be
interested in one another, and to walk together, laughing and talking, would
merely support that useful fiction.  Except was it still fiction?  Once
walking along the grass, her parasol up and her hand on Harry's arm, he began
un promisingly,

"I've been thinking, Trish."  Harry announced this extremely gravely, as
though to think needed the most tremendous skill.

He paused, apparently waiting for her to answer him.  Trish hesitantly came
out with something as neutral as possible.  "Have you.  Harry?

What about?  " " Us, of course--haven't you guessed?  " This was turning into
something of a verbal fencing match, since Trish parried this question with
one of her own.  " Guessed what.  Harry?  " " You don't help a fellow," he
said plaintively.  " I would have thought that you would have noticed.  Girls
are supposed to, or so I'm told.  " Trish suppressed a terrible desire to
say.  Noticed what?  Instead she said,

"I must be rather slow today.  Harry, for I don't quite take your meaning."
"Don't you?  I suppose that shows what a perfect lady you are, and I shan't
complain about that!  I fear that I've quite forgotten my young lady back
home since I met you.  She's a quiet little thing, you see."

"While I'm noisy?"  Trish could not prevent herself from riposting.

"Oh, no.  Lively is the word.  You make a fellow laugh.

 What I'm really trying to say is, why don't we make the pretence real?  It
would please Mother no end.  I'd as soon marry you as anyone.  " This naive
utterance set Trish thinking all over again that she could never have married
Harry even if Alien had not existed.

"It's not just a matter of pleasing your mother.  Harry, nor even yourself.
I am quite happy with our present arrangement and have no wish for it to
end."

"You mean that you wouldn't like to marry me?   But now that I have been in
society I can quite see that Mother was right--Lizzie would never have done
as a wife for me.   You, on the other hand, possess every qualification--I
could scarcely do better."

Trish stopped walking: perforce Harry had to stop too.  She looked him firmly
in the eye.  "Harry, I don't wish to marry you.  I agreed to your proposed
arrangement because I have become very fond of someone my guardian considers
unsuitable.  Your feelings might have changed, but mine for him have become
even stronger.  If you feel that we must end the arrangement because you
would like to marry me and I have no intention of marrying you, then let this
outing today be our last."  He looked mournfully down at her, rather like a
puppy dog who had been struck by a master whom he had thought loved him.
"You really mean that?"

"Yes, I do."   "Well, I can't say that I'm other than sorry.   Can we go on
being friends?   I like being with you."   "Only if you promise never to talk
of marriage to me again."   He heaved a great sigh.   "I suppose I must
agree.   Who is this lucky chap you're dead set on?   Do I know him?   I
should like to congratulate him on his good fortune."

Trish shook her head before walking on again.  "No, Harry, you can't meet
him, and he's not in society.  That's all I'm prepared to say.  Now drive me
back to Park Lane."

"Very well, but we're still friends, I hope.   For I want to keep Mother
quiet.   If I stop seeing you she'll be sure to find me someone
unsuitable--and ugly.   You're the first girl who's not ugly that she's ever
approved of."   Well, that was some sort of accolade, Trish thought, stifling
a laugh at Harry's artlessness.

He's such a goodhearted young man, she told herself sternly, you mustn't mock
him, and beside the roues, both young and old, whom you've been meeting in
so-called good society, he's a beacon of light.  He's not Alien, though.  I
wonder what he's doing now.  Alien was reading a letter which had arrived by
the afternoon post.  It was from his mother, whom he had not seen since he
had arrived in London five years ago.  The letter's contents surprised him
greatly.  Dear Alien, I have some news for you which I hope will please you.
A few months ago I met Frederick Hurst, an old friend whom I have not seen
since before I married your father.  In truth he was more than my friend, but
my parents, seeing how much we cared for one another, forbade me to see him
because he was poor, and we lost touch for many years.  While we were apart
he made the fortune which, when we were young, would have allowed us to
marry.  His wife died last year, and he has been very lonely--as I have
been--with my husband long gone and my son in another country.  To cut a long
story short, we were married last week.  I beg you to forgive us our haste,
but we have already lost such a lot of time together and we did not wish to
lose any more.  Frederick joked that he was too old to wait for the next
century to arrive before he married me!  One fortunate consequence is that I
now no longer need the annuity which your cousin Gerard settled on me to
prevent me from sinking into poverty.  I shall write to thank him for his
kindness to me--and to you, in enabling you to find work.  Wish me happy,
dearest son.  I know how much you lost because of your father's folly, and I
can only hope that one day you will find happiness as I have done--my one
wish is that you will not have to wait so long as I did to find it.  Your
loving mother, Alicia Hurst.  Alien put the letter carefully down.  He
remembered seeing a painting by Millais entitled The Order of Release,
showing a soldier coming home from the wars.  Well, he was not a soldier, but
this was his order of release.  The main reason why he had not left Gerard's
employment before was because he had not been entirely certain that he would
be able to keep his mother in the comfort which Gerard's annuity had provided
for her.  Now that reason was gone.  His mother was provided for by her new
husband and his future was his own.  It was the strangest of sensations to
contemplate that.  He had heard that prisoners, released from gaol,
frequently found themselves disoriented, unable to return to the world which
they had left.  His feelings were the same.  He almost felt giddy.  He said
aloud,

"I shall have to reconsider my future when this news has had time to sink
in."  First of all, though, he needed to write a letter to his mother,
telling her how pleased he was to hear that she had reached harbour at last.
He knew that her life with his father had never been a happy one--as his had
not been.  She had made another for herself after his father's death, and one
of his regrets was that, of necessity, they had seen little of one another
after he had gone to work for Schuyler's.  It was a relief to him to know
that she would never be lonely again.  If only I could tell Trish, he
thought.  But since he had agreed that his relationship to Gerard was to be a
secret that was impossible.  And even though the obligation to his cousin
could be considered to have been cancelled by the fact that his mother was no
longer his dependent, Alien's pride would not allow him to reveal it.  His
musings were interrupted by Gerard's entrance.  His cousin was also holding a
letter, and Alien correctly assumed that it was the one of which his mother
had written.  Gerard's first words confirmed his belief.  Gerard said,

"Am I right in assuming that you have also had a letter from your mother?
She said in mine that she was writing to you by the same post to inform you
of her marriage and her changed circumstances."  And then, dryly,

"I see by your expression that you have.  Let me begin by assuring you how
happy it makes me to learn that Aunt Alicia has married someone for whom, she
tells me, she had some affection long ago.  He is, it appears, rich enough to
keep her in luxury--which relieves me of any worry that she might have been
snared by a fortune- hunter."

"Yes," said Alien.   "I, too, have had a letter from her.   I was about to
ask you whether, now that your financing of my mother is at an end, you would
wish me to leave your service, seeing that it was originally a condition of
your assistance to her."   He was careful to make his little speech in as
indifferent a manner as possible.   So indifferent was he, indeed, that
Gerard was somewhat nonplussed.

"Yes," he said at last.  "That contract, too, is at an end.  You must make
your own decision as to your future."

"Yes, sir," he answered, his voice giving none of his true feelings away.
Gerard appeared to be about to say something else, then decided not to.   He
sat down at his desk and began to read the report on his dealings with
Standard Oil, Rockefeller's huge company, which Alien had compiled and had
left there for him to inspect.   After a little time he looked up and said,
somewhat heavily for him,

"A word with you, Marriott."  Alien looked up from his work.  "Sir?"

"I have been reading this report.   I think that I may have undervalued you,
now and in the past."   It was not simply the report which made him say this;
he had been both surprised and impressed by Alien's efficiency, his speed of
work and his ability to understand immediately whatever was put before him.
"Yes, sir, you did," replied Alien, stone-faced.   Exasperated, Gerard said,

"Is that all you have to say?  Most men would have been both pleased and
nattered to learn that from me."  Alien stared at him.  He was suddenly,
cynically, sure that Gerard had discovered that he did not wish to lose an
invaluable aide--possibly to rivals--and was offering him this sop to
persuade him not to leave.  "Would you like me to speak the truth, sir?"

"By all means, Marriott.   I am beginning to believe that you rarely speak
the truth--whenever you care to speak that is, which is not often."   "Then,
sir, I am neither pleased nor nattered to learn that, for once, your famed
intuition let you down, and that you chose to throw me away, condemning me to
servitude in a position which was much beneath my talents."

Gerard stared at him.  He felt as though he had baited a mouse and started a
tiger!  "Godammit!"  he roared at last.  "I can do a great deal for you,
Marriott, if you possess the correct attitude!  Would you throw that away?"
Composedly Alien said,

"Oh, I have no wish for you to do anything further for me, sir.  I am content
for the moment to remain as your secretary, and I am perfectly capable of
looking after my future myself, and at a suitable time will do just that."
He paused.

"Have you any new orders for me, sir?  If not, I will continue with my
present task."  Checkmate!  thought Gerard with a sudden inward grin, his
anger dissipating before Alien's impenetrable facade.  Hard man that he was,
he knew and respected those who were like him.  Improbably, his unconsidered
cousin had proved to be as hard as himself.  Whether he had always been a
hard man, or whether hardship and his rage at being undervalued had made him
one were moot points, and, to Gerard, irrelevant.  He dealt in facts, not
unsupported evidence and hindsight.

He suspected that the man before him did the same.  He sat down again, saying
dryly,

"Well, if you do decide to leave me, I would be grateful for a reasonably
long notice.  My one complaint about Hall's going was that he wished to leave
me at extremely short notice, and after such long service that I could not
refuse him."  Alien put that piece of news away in his capacious memory to be
thought about later.  "When I leave I shall certainly give you due notice,"
being his only comment.  They worked in silence for about an hour, until
Gerard rose and announced that Torry was having a bun-fight that afternoon
and that he had promised to be present.  "Would you care to come down and
indulge in a cup of  tea, Marriott?"  he offered--as a form of olive branch.
Alien sardonically supposed.  He shook his head.  "Thank you, no.  I have a
great deal of work before me."  Gerard thought, a little ruefully, that Alien
would have refused this belated invitation even if he had had no work at all
before him.  He had never before realised how much pride was hidden behind
his cousin's silent self-control since the apparent humility Alien always
displayed had deceived him.  Once he had gone Alien rose and paced restlessly
around the room, reliving his skirmish with Gerard.  For the moment, despite
what he had said to his cousin, his ability to concentrate had left him.  He
sat down again, but to no avail.  For the first time since he had walked into
Gerard's office nine years ago he was on his own, and the world lay before
him.  The telephone's harsh bray interrupted his musing.  It was Tom Moidore
on the other end of the line.  "Is Sir Gerard there?"  he asked, nay,
demanded.  "If he is I need to speak to him at once.  Tell him that the
matter is urgent."

"Urgent enough to interrupt him while he's at one of Lady Schuyler's
campaigning bun-fights?"   queried Alien.   "Look, Marriott," roared Tom in
exasperation, 'believe me, it's urgent enough for you to interrupt him if he
were entertaining the Prince of Wales!   "

"In that case..."  murmured Alien, and sped to do as he was bid.  The reason
for his reluctance was that he did not wish to invade the Schuylers' private
space rather than that he wished to disobey Tom.

The drawing room was full of men and women.  Harry Norman was there with his
mother, seated beside Trish, who looked enchanting in a violet and cream
tea-gown.  Torry Schuyler was enchanting in green and cream.

"If you will excuse me for intruding.  Lady Schuyler, but Lord Moidore is on
the telephone and wishes to speak to Sir Gerard.  He said that the matter was
most urgent and could not wait."

"Oh, if that is so," smiled Torry, 'we will excuse you, Gerard, provided
only that Mr Marriott will take your place and a cup of tea.   " She had
always had a soft spot for Alien, whom she considered a most decent and
gentlemanly young fellow-- with hidden depths.   The shrewdness with which
she had run her life as a single woman had not deserted her on marriage.
There was no way in which Alien could refuse her, as he had refused her
husband, without looking a boot.   He sat down, not far from Trish, and was
handed a cup of tea and a tea cake.   The other young men in the room--there
were a few beside Harry--were all superbly turned out and sat with their
inverted top hats--their white gloves inside them--at their feet, balancing
cups of tea and plates of tea-cakes as to the manner born.   Alien had often
wondered if they took lessons in it all at public school.   He tried to look
inconspicuous, and was succeeding until the young woman next to him--Trish's
friend Lucy Chalfont, who was enabling Trish to visit him and Mr Nance--
asked archly, " I take it that you are Sir Gerard's secretary, Mr Marriott.
Have you been with him long?   " " Not very long," he told her, swallowing a
piece of tea cake rapidly.   " About two months now.   " Lucy noted his slight
American accent, and continued her interrogation with,

"And how long have you been in England?"

"Oh," he said, as unassumingly as he could, "I have worked in Schuyler's
head office in London for the past five years."

"Well, whatever else," pursued Lucy, 'you have almost lost your American
accent.  " " Being from the East Coast," he told her,

"I never had a strong one.  Most people think Americans have a decided twang,
but in our part of the States people pride themselves on trying to lose it."
Trish leaned forward to say,

"Do you think, Mr Marriott, that in the coming century we shall speak more
like the Americans--or will they speak more like us?"  Before he could answer
Harry Norman said, somewhat aggressively,

"Seeing that it is our language which they speak, it would seem reasonable to
me that they will adopt our way of speech completely, hey, Marriott?"  Now
this was said after a fashion that expected the answer Yes, but Alien,
feeling freer to speak his mind than he had done for years, said, still
quietly,

"I think not.  There are many influences at work in the States which are sure
to change our speech even more.  I refer to the American Indians, and even
more to the successive waves of immigration from countries other than England.

Consequently I think it likely that you will become more Americanised and
will adopt many of the new words being coined there.  " This was heresy to
Harry, and to most of the others present.  Only Tony, an American herself,
said thoughtfully,

"I believe that you are right, Mr Marriott.  During the years I have been in
England I have noticed that many of our livelier expressions have been
adopted over here."

"The twentieth century will be an American one, then," said a middle-aged
man mockingly.   "What a prospect!"   Trish, indignantly defending Alien--and
Tony for that matter--said,

"We could do worse, I think.  It seems to me that there is a drive in
Americans which we appear to lack these days.  Perhaps being a young country
helps!"

"You have been listening to the Prince of Wales," remarked Tony with a
laugh, trying to defuse the situation a  little, and at the same time
ignoring the slur on herself and Gerard as Americans.   "He thinks that we
are growing a trifle decadent as the end of the century approaches."
"Everyone thinks that at the end of centuries," said Lady Norman decidedly.
Trish said, her eyes sparkling,

"In that case all will be remedied when the clock strikes twelve on December
the thirty-first, 1899, for, by that logic, we shall immediately be
transformed into babes again, innocently blowing bubbles and forgetting our
recent wickedness."  The general laugh which followed this turned the
conversation away from Alien and the United States, for which he was heartily
grateful.  Lucy, who had been watching both Alien and Trish curiously,
whispered to him,

"Do you like England, Mr Marriott?  I hear that American girls are supposed
to be very pretty.  Do you think that English girls are pretty?"  Alien said,
under his breath.

"I like England very much, and I like pretty girls, too.  There doesn't seem
to be much to choose between the two countries in that department, I am happy
to say."  Lucy preened herself a little.  "What a diplomat you, Mr Marriott!
Is that why Sir Gerard employs you?"  Alien nearly choked over the remainder
of his tea cake at this, remembering his recent highly undiplomatic remarks to
Gerard.  "I hardly think that can be true.  I'm sure he values my skills with
the pen and with numbers much more.  I leave the diplomacy to him."  Trish,
watching him talk to Lucy, was wishing that she had been fortunate enough to
sit by him.

Instead, she was lumbered with Harry, who had become a bit of a bore lately,
what with wanting to marry her and being determined to believe that if he
pestered her long enough she would give in through sheer exhaustion.

 She could scarcely bellow across the room at Alien to attract his
attention.  She wondered what he and Lucy were finding to talk about so
animatedly.  At one point Lucy grabbed a plate of fancy cakes from a passing
footman in order to offer him one, which he took with a slight smile.  That
smile, offered to someone else, caused such a fierce pang in Irish's breast
that she almost felt faint.  And then he looked across at her, when Lucy
turned to speak to the man on her other side, and, unable to prevent himself,
gave her one of his sweet, slow smiles--which Harry intercepted.  He was not
a man often given to insights of any kind, but he was a man in love and he
immediately interpreted the smile correctly.  So that solemn lump was the
fellow whom Trish preferred to himself!  Sir Gerard Schuyler's secretary, no
less.  Well, you could scarcely get less than that, could you?  Alien was
released from what he was beginning to think was an odd sort of bondage by
Gerard's return.  He rose and, bowing to Torry, murmured,

"I

am sure that you will allow me to resume my duties.  " " By all means, Mr
Marriott.  Gerard can be your able deputy here.  " Although some of the
company laughed at this quip Alien was not sure that Gerard appreciated it.
He said, when Alien passed him on the way to the door,

"I'll have a word with you later, Marriott.  Something rather odd has come
up."

The other odd thing being me coming down to the drawing room.  Alien said to
himself as he mounted the stairs.  Nice to see Trish in her glory, even if I
couldn't speak to her.  I wonder, however, if that shrewd piece Lucy Chalfont
twigged that I am her secret friend, and, if she did, will she | be able to
hold her tongue?  He did not worry about Harry | I Norman having discovered
their secret because he was unaware that, for once, he had given away his
inmost feelings.  Torry Schuyler was bearded by Mrs Chalfont before she left.
"I'm not reproaching her in any way," she said confidentially, 'but I'm very
sorry that Trish seems to have little time for Lucy these days.  She was
always coming over to spend the day or the afternoon with her, and she's such
a good influence on my girl, who is a little wild.  Lately, though, we've
seen nothing of her.  I can only suppose that she has found another friend.  "

Torry gave no indication that this was news to her.  She had been under the
impression that Trish was spending at least one day a week with Lucy--or so
she had said.  If she were not with Lucy--then where was she?  Something,
some nuance of behaviour which had struck her over the last few weeks,
offered her a hint of what might be happening.  Aloud she said,

"I'll have a word with Trish.  Give her a hint that Lucy might like a visit."
And I might try to find out what Trish is up to!

Harry, on the contrary, wasted no time in hinting to Trish what was troubling
him about her behaviour.  He had asked for her to escort him to the door
whilst his mama stayed behind for a short private talk with Torry and twitted
her about Alien Marriott before he left.  "I never thought you'd develop a
pash for such a solemn lump as Sir Gerard's secretary," he grumbled at her.
"He is your mysterious lover, isn't he?"  Trish stared at him, aghast.
However had he managed to guess her secret?  She had no wish to lie to
him--indeed, she replied hotly without thinking first,

"Alien's not a solemn lump, by no means.  It's just that as Sir Gerard's
secretary he has to obey the forms."

"Well, he doesn't " obey the forms" by making up to you and encouraging you
to meet him in secret.   Perhaps I should have called him a sly lump!   Just
remember that I can make you Lady Norman one day--he can't."   Now this was
unworthy of Harry, and he knew it.   If Irish's secret lover had turned out
to be a poor gentleman of title he would not have felt quite so demeaned, but
to learn that she preferred a mere pen-pusher to him, Harry Norman, the heir
to a baronetcy, was too much for him to stomach.   Trish almost told him as
much, but managed to hold her tongue, saying only,

"I don't want to quarrel with you, Harry.  I might remind you, though, that I
never deceived you in any way.  I told you that I already cared for someone
else and I thought that you did, too, or I would never have agreed to your
scheme.

Perhaps we ought to call it off.  "

" No, never!   " he exclaimed.

"Certainly not.  For one thing I hope to change your mind, and for another it
would upset my mother--she approves of you greatly, you know, thinks that you
are just the thing."

 "But it's not your mother I'm marrying,"

said Trish reasonably.  "And I'm sure that there are lots of girls besides me
who are just the thing."

"Mother doesn't think that," said Harry gloomily.   "She has this bee in her
bonnet about the end of the century ruining everything.   She thinks that's
why most girls are so fast these days and would make unsuitable wives."
"Well, she'd think me fast if she knew about Alien Marriott, wouldn't she?
So you see I'm far from being just the thing, after all."   There were
occasions when Harry thought that perhaps Trish was a little too clever for
him, and this was one of them.   She had such a terrible way with words--and
come to think of it that awful bounder Marriott was just the same, pro sing on
about how people might speak in the future.

Perhaps that was why she liked him.  Harry found words difficult, and was
just bright enough to know that he did.  His mother's arrival ended that
little conversation.  Her adieux made to Trish, she said to Harry once they
were safely on the way home in the carriage,

"My little chat with Lady Schuyler was to the purpose that you should ask Sir
Gerard if you might speak to Patricia with a view to proposing to her.  If
she knew that Sir Gerard blessed your suit, she might well be eager to marry
you.  At present I think that it is only proper maidenly shyness which is
holding her back."  Trish's proper maidenly shyness!  What a joke.  Harry
mourned, when all the time she was meeting that fortune hunter Marriott on the
sly.  How little his mother knew of her.  For the first time Harry asked
himself whether his mother's view of herself as worldly-wise and shrewd was
actually a true one if she could be so wrong about Trish.  Lucy's farewells
to Trish were equally frank.

"Alien Marriott's your young man, is it?  One of the quiet kind with hidden
depths, I suspect.  I might have known that you wouldn't have chosen anyone
ordinary.  Don't worry, I shan't say a word to anyone, but you must know how
the fur and the feathers will fly when your guardians discover what you are
up to.  Sooner or later they're bound to, you know.  For a start you probably
aren't deceiving the servants."

"Apparently we're not deceiving anyone except my guardians," returned Trish
dryly.  "We might as well hire a sandwich-board man to parade the streets
with notices saying,

"Trish Courtney and Alien Marriott are meeting secretly--watch out for
further news!"  That would set the world alight.  " " Oh, you can joke about
it.  " said Lucy, soberly for her.  " But it isn't a joke, you know.  " It
wasn't, and Trish wasn't as brave as she sounded, but  there was no profit
in being miserable about her dilemma, so she might as well be cheerful.  What
worried her was that Alien had so much more to lose than she had if their
conspiracy was discovered.  In that she was wrong, but, not knowing his
changed situation, she was right to worry about him.  One further thing
troubled her.  It would be difficult for her to join him on his day off for
the next few weeks since Lucy and her parents were about to visit Richmond to
stay with Lucy's rich maiden aunt, who had a villa there.  Now, alas, she had
to think up a new excuse to meet him.  On top of that the season was growing
busier, and Sir Gerard and Torry would expect her to be present at all the
major events where she might encounter eligible young men of good family.
But I only want an ineligible young man, she told herself sadly, and what is
worse it is growing harder and harder for me to be with him and for us not
to... Here she found herself in difficulties, for her imagination would only
take her as far as having Alien's arms around her, and him kissing her
fervently.  She was reasonably sure that there was more to making love than
that, and the mere thought of exploring this new country was beginning to
excite her.  Like Mr Nance, she was beginning to wonder where Alien got his
iron self-control from.

One day, when she knew him even better than she already did, she would ask
him whether it had been such sweet torture for him as for her-- she suspected
that it was.  She was not wrong.  Alien, alone in the study, working rapidly
and waiting for Gerard to return, was asking himself the same question.  His
father had introduced him to a famous New York courtesan when he was sixteen
years old and had told her 'to blood the boy.  " Alien would never forget the
six weeks which had followed.  Weeks which had  revealed to him the depths
of passion of which he was capable.  Deep enough for it to have begun to
frighten him.  He had known that his father was a spendthrift, a drunkard, a
sadistic bully and a gambler.

Then, from what the courtesan had told him during that brief interlude, he
became aware that he was also a roue.  He had already despised his father for
his cruelty towards himself and his mother, and, young though he was, had
determined that he would never be like him in any way.  As a result his
father had despised him, shouting during one beating that Alien was more like
the cold-blooded, tight-fisted Schuylers than was decent.  Just before his
father's death he had become engaged to a pretty young woman whom he'd
thought loved him as he'd thought that he loved her.  He had been wrong on
both counts.  She had thrown him over without a qualm as soon as she and her
family had discovered that he was ruined.  What had saddened and surprised
him was how little it had hurt him.  Alone in the world after his father's
death, he had engaged in a few brief liaisons, but he had never found anyone
whom he had thought he would like to marry--even if he could have afforded
to.  He had even begun to wonder whether he was cold: whether what he had
experienced with the courtesan was an aberration, something which would never
recur.  And then he had met Trish--and his whole world had changed.  The
passion which he thought that he had lost, or that he had never truly
possessed, had come surging back.  It was as sweet, and, because of his
previous experience, it was even more demanding than that which Trish felt
for him.  Only his self-control, which had been honed by his years of
servitude, kept him from taking advantage of her charming innocence.
Gerard's entrance broke a concentration which Alien was finding it difficult
to maintain.  His cousin's first words were  not promising.  "What the devil
have you been saying or doing to make my wife so partial to you, Marriott?"
His tone was not unkind: rather it was curious.  Stifling an inward grin that
he should have caused Gerard to think about him at all.  Alien said in his
coolest office voice,

"I really can't answer that, sir.  I was quite unaware that I have ever
spoken to Lady Schuyler in a manner different from the one in which I speak
to everyone else."  Gerard gave a short laugh.  "You should go on the stage,
Marriott.  There must be a living there for someone who could play the
butler, secretary or servant whose calm manner is exactly the same to
everyone at all times--a talent which you appear to have mastered.  I have to
admit that there are times when it annoys me.  That was why I was curious
when I discovered that Lady Schuyler appears to have some kind of strange
admiration for you."

"Women's intuition?"  offered Alien, after a short pause in which he debated
with himself whether to say anything at all.  "In that case I should like to
know just what it is that she is intuiting!  No, don't answer me.  Just bend
your in- tuition--which I have come to respect--to something which Tom
Moidore rang me about earlier this afternoon.  It appears that some rather
unpleasant rum ours about my past and my honesty when I lived in the States
have begun to circulate about London society and the City.  They could be
exceedingly damaging, even though there is not a word of truth in them.  As
yet, they have not become widespread.  It is also, however, not the only
problem I am faced with.  My treasurer informs me that his latest audit shows
that large sums of Schuyler money have gone astray in the past few years.

"In other words embezzlement' on a massive scale has been occurring.

Now, since all authority for the transfer of money rests with me and my
signature, this is a matter which I cannot take lightly.  " He stopped pacing
around the room--a habit of his when perturbed or concentrating--and fixed
Alien with a hard stare.  " Any ideas, Marriott?  Have you come across
anything which might throw light on either of these disturbing matters?  "
What to reply?  I think that I have found something odd in your accounts, but
it is difficult to say what, and it would throw doubt on the honesty of an
ex-employee whom you valued highly?  Alien hesitated before answering
Gerard.  " Do you have an obvious enemy who might profit from the circulation
of such rum ours--and if they were to be believed could their existence
damage--or prevent--your future investments in the United Kingdom?  " " Of
course I have enemies--who in my position does not?  And certainly my
investments and my interests here could be affected.  As to which of my
rivals might be responsible--who knows?  I might ask you if you have heard
anything suspicious, but since you appear to live like a hermit, I doubt
whether you have.  " " Does that mean that you would prefer me not to live
like a hermit, sir?  " Now this was not only impertinent but risky, given his
cousin's known temper.  Gerard gave a harsh laugh.

"That was not in character, Marriott, not at all.  Your choice, always yours,
what you do when off duty.  You have no more ideas to offer?"

"For the moment, sir, no.  And I have taken due note of your remark about my
off-duty hours.  It is quite a relief to know that I might do as I please."
He was risk-taking again, but baiting the bear who was his cousin was a
challenge which he could not resist.  Gerard's stare at him told Alien that
he was not quite sure how to take his last sentence.  Delivered in his usual
flat tone of voice it could be taken either as humble agreement with a
superior--or as mockery.  To a man who was usually ferociously forthright in
his dealings with others, and expected others to be equally so with him, the
Machiavellian subtlety which Alien had perfected over the last nine years was
something which he found difficult to deal with.  He gave a grunt which might
have meant anything, and which would have earned him a rebuke from Torry had
she been present, before adding,

"Your humility is slipping, Marriott.  I have taken due note of what you have
just said."

 "Thank you, sir."

Gerard restrained himself by not retorting.  What the devil for?  and
somewhat ruefully retired from the field, silently admitting that this was
the second time his cousin had outsmarted him in the game of wits and words.
He was beginning to grasp that he had underestimated Alien even more than he
might have thought.  He told himself that once these wretched problems of
which Tom Moidore and his auditor had informed him were safely over and done
with, he ought to find him something to do which was more worthy of the sharp
intellect which he was beginning to reveal.  An intellect which he had
concealed beneath a veil of humility.  What was more, he might also take the
time to ask himself why his scousin should suddenly begin to reveal it at
all!  In a well-appointed room, in a house as palatial as Gerard's, another
man was making a similar judgement about Alien Marriott.  Facing him were Mr
Robert Hall and an ex-policeman who had been dismissed for corruption and who
now sold his services to those who needed secret and illegal business done
for them.

 "I commend you," he said, addressing Hall, 'for paying the butler to keep a
watch on him and report to no one but you--with what results?  "

"He discovered that Marriott was repeatedly visiting the watchmaker Nance,
with whom he used to lodge, and that on his full day off he was clandestinely
meeting Miss Patricia Courtney there, although he had been ordered by Sir
Gerard to have nothing to do with her.  We can only conclude that he either
intends to seduce her, or to acquire her fortune by marriage."

"Good, very good.   I trust that you have told the butler to keep this
information to himself unless we give him leave to inform Sir Gerard?"   "His
pay from me was conditional on that, sir."

"Good, very good again.  Now, what of the other business--did you find
anything which might lead you to believe that he has discovered any of
our--shall we say-- business, since he became Sir Gerard's secretary?"

Hall hesitated before replying.  "I discovered nothing substantive, sir,
which might prove that--except that when I examined the files on his desk
those which might alert him to anything odd were missing.  His manner to me
was short, as well, but I gather that he is a man of few words with everyone.
" I also discovered, on a visit to Schuyler's head office, that he is
regarded as something of a mathematical freak who was far too good for the
job he was paid for.  More than that, neither the staff at Schuyler's, nor
Sir Gerard himself, know that he is a member of the British Horological
Institute, where he is highly valued for his maths and his knowledge of
clocks and clock making and is due to give a paper to the members later this
month--an honour not conferred on many, I understand.  " " You are sure that
Sir Gerard knows nothing of this?  " " Quite sure.  "

 "A devious gentleman, Mr Alien Marriott, then, and a clever one.

Something which you think Sir Gerard might not know?  " " I am sure of that,
too.  " " Better and better.  " He fell silent for a moment.

"Norris," he said abruptly, turning to the ex-policeman,

"I want you to keep an eye on Marriott for me, and report on all his doings."
He turned back to Hall again.  "In retrospect I think it was a mistake for
you to retire from Sir Gerard's employment, although our enterprise was
successfully over and I approved at the time.  What made you suspicious of
Marriott " First of all I assumed--wrongly, I now know--that anyone who was
likely to replace me would be a mere pen pusher with no other abilities, and
then, talking to a friend who works at Rothschild's, I discovered that they
wished.  to employ Marriott.  They had found out from work he had done for
them when they were on a joint enterprise with Schuyler's that he had a nose
for fraud and that Schuyler's was unaware of this.  Rothschild's offered him
far more than he was being paid at Schuyler's to work for them, but he turned
them down.  " " That, in itself, is odd.  " " I agree--unless he thought it
might interfere with his relationship with Nance.  " " The butler says that
Sir Gerard is always short with Marriott--something else which is odd.

Schuyler has many faults, but he has always been courteous to those who work
for him.  " " As you well know," smiled his interlocutor.  " You are not to
worry.  Hall.  I have a plan to dispose of Mr Marriott which you and Norris
here will help me to carry out.  Until then go about your business as usual
and do nothing to  arouse suspicion.  Marriott may know nothing, but we dare
not take any risks.  " After Hall and Morris had gone their master thought
that it was fortunate that he would be dining with Sir Gerard Schuyler and
his wife in the near future and might be lucky enough to meet this strange
young man.  Hall had earlier told him that he was a Yankee, and he would
employ the Pinkerton Detective Agency in America to try to find out who he
was and where he came from.

Chapter Eight Oh, Alien, there's nothing better than a fine day on the
Thames, is there with a blue sky and a slight breeze to make it perfect?  "
Trish and Alien were on their way to Greenwich by steamer.  It would be their
last day together for some time.  and they were determined to make the most
of it.  They were unaware that they were being watched.  " I have been
longing to take you to Greenwich to see the Royal Observatory and the Park,"
he had said shortly after she had arrived at Mr Nance's shop that morning.  "
You told me recently that you had become fascinated by time, and by the
importance of clocks in our lives, so I am taking you at your word.  We shall
have a jolly trip down river to the pier at Greenwich Reach, which is not
very far from the Observatory.  It's the home of time: the place where the
world's time is regularised.  " " It's strange, isn't it," Trish had
remarked, 'that the end of the century is making us keep thinking about time.

Once again the guests at Sir Gerard's dinner party last night were talking as
though living in a new century must mean that ; everything will have a new
beginning and all our problems | will be solved.  I "I can't believe that
January the first, 1900, will be very different from December the
thirty-first, 1899--and I can't imagine why everything should change once
midnight has chimed."

"To some extent all dates are imaginary," Alien had replied.   "Every race
and every religion has a different set of dates and times and supposes that
everyone else's are incorrect and that theirs is the only true one.   On the
other hand we do need to agree to the same standard of time around the world
if ships and trains and times of the delivery of goods--or people, for that
matter--are to run efficiently.   That is why the meridian and Greenwich Mean
Time are important."   One nice thing about Alien was that he never
patronised her.   He had never said to her what one young man had come out
with when she had asked him a question about what made motor cars run"--Sweet
Trish, don't trouble your pretty little head about that.   Girls ride in
cars; they don't need to know about their innards."   Alien had recently
shown her a clock's innards, and given her a little talk about how they made
it work.   Also, once they had boarded the steamer he pointed out to her all
the interesting places which they were passing, telling her the names and
history of the different docks and waving a hand towards Deptford, where
Christopher Marlowe, the poet and dramatist, had been killed in a tavern
brawl.   "The Thames along this stretch isn't pretty," he said, 'it's a place
of work, the hub of the world's trade.   All the riches from the Indies and
the East arrive here--to say nothing of what comes from America now.   " Some
of the passengers looked curiously at the pretty girl and her escort who were
enjoying their day on the river.

The wind grew a little stronger and Trish had to hold her big straw hat on.
"If it blows any harder," she said,

"I shall take it off and  hang etiquette.  I've left my gloves off, and if
I'm not careful I shall be eating in the street next."

"Oh, do!"   exclaimed Alien.   "On our way back we can leave the steamer at
one of the stops, to find a place to eat whelks, cockles and oysters and
drink half a pint of porter--a true East End treat.   Jellied eels might be
on the menu, too."   Trish gave a little skip on hearing this.   "I was once
told that you eat cockles with a pin.   Is that true?"   "It's the only way
to eat them," Alien assured her.   "And you'd better give me your gloves.
I'll put them in my pocket; you might lose them otherwise."   Years later
Trish would remember everything about that happy day.   They went ashore by
the pier at Greenwich Reach and strolled along King William's Walk towards
Greenwich Park, where the Royal Naval College stood in all its
eighteenth-century glory, golden in the morning sunshine.   The Royal
Observatory was proud on a hill high above them.   A number of well-dressed
people, together with a sprinkling of ragamuffins running about and shouting,
were enjoying the splendours of the summer's day.

"That's Flamsteed House," Alien told her, pointing to the Observatory.

"It was designed by Sir Christopher Wren especially for the first Astronomer
Royal, John Flamsteed, who was appointed by King Charles II to make
observations which would help to make safe navigation possible when ships
were out of sight of the land.  To do that it was necessary to make an
accurate map of the stars--which was why it was put high on a hill above the
smoke of London."  Trish gazed in admiration at the beautiful mellow brick
building and its central octagon with a tall window in each wall which Wren
had designed to allow the astronomers to observe every part of the heavens.
Above one of the domed towers which surmounted the octagon was what looked to
 be a flag-staff, except that it flew no flag.  Instead, at the staffs base
was a large round ball.  Above that was a crossbar.  "Whatever is that?"  she
asked, pointing at the ball.  "That's the Time Ball," he told her.  "At five
minutes to one o'clock it rises halfway up the pole, three minutes later it
rises to the top, and then, exactly at one of the clock, it drops down again.
The master of every ship leaving the docks on the Isle of Dogs opposite to
Greenwich then sets the ship's chronometer by it.  Later, when he is out at
sea, he can use it to calculate longitude exactly."

 "But why is that important?"   Trish asked.

"Because only then can a ship avoid running ashore, or on sandbanks, or pile
up on the rocks with fatal results.  The most famous disaster occurred in
1707, when Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell, three ships and two thousand men
ran aground and perished in a storm.  One of the consequences of that was
that a prize was offered to anyone who could make a device from which
longitude could be calculated at sea--a prize which a clock maker called John
Harrison won.  He is one of Mr Nance's heroes.  He says that there should be
a statue of him in Trafalgar Square alongside Nelson's.  Nelson saved the
nation from being invaded in 1805 and Harrison saved the lives of a great
many sailors--but no one knows about him, more's the pity."

"Is anyone inventing anything as important as that now?"   "Oh, yes.
Electricity changed everything recently, and I'm sure that there will be even
more changes in the future."   "And have you seen Harrison's clock?"   Alien
shook his head.

"I'm afraid not.  I've seen drawings of it, of course.

When we reach the Observatory I shall have a suggestion to make to you--but
that can wait.  We shan't be able to go in to the Observatory.

Entrance is at the invitation of the Astronomer Royal, and I'm nowhere near
being important enough to be honoured by him.  "

 They walked through the park along the avenue leading to the bottom of the
hill, which they mounted, rapidly at first and then more slowly when the hill
grew steeper as they neared the top.  Three-quarters of the way up Alien
suggested that they stop for a moment, rest on a bench and admire the view of
the Thames and the City which lay far below them.  Or rather Trish admired
that view: the view which Alien was admiring was Trish herself, violet eyes
glowing, lips parted a little, her cheeks rosy with the effort of walking up
the hill in her fashionably long draped skirts which trailed along the
ground.  "Thank goodness that bustles have gone out of favour," Trish told
him.

"Imagine having to drag that up the hill behind one!  You know," she added
thoughtfully, looking at him, 'although I think women's clothes make it
difficult to take any exercise, I don't think men's are much better.  It may
be de rigeur for you to have to wear a frock coat in the morning, but on a
day like this it must be most uncomfortable.  "

"Most," agreed Alien.  "I'd be better off in rolled-up shirtsleeves, but
imagine the furor that would cause!  I should most likely be locked up for
disturbing the peace by being dressed in an immoral fashion while escorting a
young society lady in a public place."  This came out in his best
mock-pompous fashion, which was only a slight exaggeration of the manner
which he adopted with Gerard.  It set Trish laughing, and in this happy and
relaxed mood they made light of the rest of the hill and rapidly reached the
gates of the Royal Observatory and the cobbled courtyard which stood before
it.  By the gate was a large twenty-four-hour clock--some- | thing which
Trish had not seen before.

Alien had taught her to find beauty in clocks, and this clock, while not
exactly beautiful, was certainly interesting, with the roman 1 figures of
twelve at the bottom of the dial and of twenty- four at the top.  "Did you
bring your pendant watch and its little key along with you, as I suggested?"
Alien asked her.  "Of course," Trish told him with a merry face.  "The master
commands and the slave obeys--just like the clocks!"

 "Minx," he said, and leaning over he kissed her on the cheek.

"Now, when twelve o'clock approaches slip your watch off, take out the key
and the moment that the hand of the clock reaches twelve at the bottom of the
dial where six normally is, correct your watch by it and the perfection of Mr
Charles Shepherd's handiwork will mean that your watch is, for that moment at
least, absolutely accurate."  They had ten minutes to wait, so first Alien
showed her the spot through which the prime meridian passed, and which since
1851 had determined the basis of calculation of the world's time.  After that
they admired an even better view of the river and the City than the one they
had seen on the way up the hill.  The river was full of shipping.  It was one
of London's most busy highways, Alien told her.  "In the old days, before
roads were improved, it was the main one.  Kings and queens were rowed up and
down the river.  Henry VIII had a palace here, and like some of our other
kings he visited Greenwich often in order to escape the smoke and unpleasant
smells with which London was afflicted."

"Several hundred years later we come here by steamer-- and the smoke and the
smells are no better!"   Back at the clock, ready for midday to arrive, Trish
held her watch at the ready and obeyed Alien's whispered instructions.   A
pair of portly gentlemen were also inspecting their gold hunters for the same
purpose.   "Why don't you set your watch now?"

Trish's voice was almost accusing.  "Because I thought that we could have two
experiences here, not one.  I shall set my watch by the Time Ball at one
o'clock."

Trish's cheeky answer to that set several of the spectators laughing.

"But you're not the master of a ship about to sail to the Indies, are you?"
"One o'clock is the same time for me as for him," Alien retorted grandly,
'even if I'm not standing on the deck of a steamer.  " Nothing daunted, Trish
twitted him again.  " Oh, you always have an answer for everything.  My old
nurse used to say,

"Don't be so sharp or one day you'll cut yourself."

" " Not with my watch, I won't!   " They laughed together.   One of their
hearers snorted Contemptuously at their obvious pleasure in each other and
the day, but most of them smiled encouragingly at the handsome pair.   "
We'll take a little walk around the building while we wait for one o'clock,"
Alien suggested.   " If you've still an appetite for walking, that is.   " "
Always," said Trish.

"Although I've been asking my guardian if I can buy a bicycle.  Lots of girls
I know ride bicycles.  Lucy Chalfont for one."

"By the sound of her Lucy Chalfont has everything new and daring."   "True,"
agreed Trish.

"Until I told her about us and our secret she thought I was a real old
stick-in the-mud."

"But not now?"   "No, not now.   She's quite jealous--especially after she
saw you that day she came to tea with her mama."   They were still laughing
about Lucy when a young man, flashily dressed, wearing a curly-brimmed bowler
hat and carrying a silver-topped cane, stared at the pair of them before
saying familiarly to Alien,

"Well, if it ain't you, Marriott, got up like the dog's dinner!  Got a
girlfriend now, have you?  Thought what with one thing and another you was
always too busy to have one."

"You wrong me, Parker," said Alien gravely.   "I have the honour to present
to you a good friend of mine.   Miss Patricia Courtney, who I am showing the
sights of Greenwich.   Miss Courtney, this is an old friend of mine, Justus
Parker."   "And who better than you to show her Greenwich, eh, Marriott?"
said Mr Parker, staring even harder at Trish.   "S'pose you know.   Miss
Courtney, that Marriott here is that rare bird, a gentleman amateur who knows
as much, if not more, than the professionals.   Old Nance got a real bonus
when you walked into his shop, eh?"   Trish had already gathered by his
clothes, his manner and his speech that Mr Parker had nothing to do with the
high society of which she was a part.   Alien confirmed this by saying,

"Mr Parker is Asprey's chief horologist and has forgotten more about clocks
and watches than I have ever known."

"Up to a point, old chap, up to a point.   I'm not the high- flyer you are,
by no means.   I s'pose you know.   Miss Court- they, that Marriott is going
to present a paper to the British Horological Institute.   All about the
future: can't wait to hear it."   Trish turned to Alien, who had begun to say,

"Come now, Parker, my paper is purely speculative..."

"Is this true?"   she asked him.   "That you are to give a paper?"   "Well,
yes."   It was the first time that she had ever seen him awkward or
embarrassed.   "Have you told Sir Gerard?"   "Emphatically, no.   It is none
of his business what I do in my spare time."   Trish nodded.   She had known
what a secret person Alien was, hiding his talents from all the world except
perhaps herself--ever since he had asked her to say nothing about his heroic
conduct at the railway accident.   Not for the first time she wondered what
lay behind his decision to hold himself aloof from Gerard, given that his
heroism and his mathematical prowess, to say nothing of his mastery of
horology, could--if revealed to Gerard--have brought him nothing but honour
and praise.   Alien gained unexpected support from young Mr Parker.   "Quite
right, too," he said emphatically.   "Never let the bosses know too much
about you, eh, Marriott.   Still clerking for that Yankee bigwig, are you?"
"In a manner of speaking," Alien admitted.   "It'll all change in the new
century," Mr Parker declared confidently.   "We shall become more like you
Yankees, with very little difference between master and man.   For my part I
can't wait to see it.

Peace and plenty, they say, as well.  Peace and plenty in the twentieth
century--no more wars.  " " So they say.  " Alien's response was a dry one.

He wasn't prepared to shake young Mr Parker's confidence in the future,
particularly when everyone else seemed to share it!

"Mustn't bore Miss Courtney, though," Parker offered.  "Waiting to see the
Time Ball drop, are you?"

"Oh, you're not boring me," Trish told him cheerfully.   "I'm not one of
those young ladies whose only interests in life are small talk, playing the
piano badly and doing a great deal of ugly embroidery.   I must admit that
until I met Alien I'd never thought of clocks being interesting, but the more
I learn about them the more I wish that young ladies were encouraged to know
something about the practical side of life."   "Oh, I can see that you've
netted yourself a New Woman, Marriott!   Better watch her or she'll be
fastening herself to the railings of Greenwich Park or trying to storm the
Royal Observatory itself."   "Oh, I doubt that.   I really do, Parker.   From
all I know  of her Miss Courtney has a lot more sense than to behave like
that."

"So you say now, old fellow, so you say now.  But we all know that marriage
is quite a different thing from courting."  He pulled out his watch.
"Mustn't rant on, though.  The Time Ball is due to fall any moment now."
They all turned towards the domed tower where the Time Ball was just
beginning to climb up its pole.  Alien fetched out his watch, which did not
need a key but had a button on its top.  Time slowed while they waited for
the Ball, which was now at its highest point, to fall again.  When it did the
watching spectators gave a loud hurrah.  "That's it, then," said Mr Parker
cheerfully, putting away his adjusted watch.  "Nice to have met you.  Miss
Courtney.  Must leave you, though.  Two's company, three's none, eh,
Marriott?"  And he gave Alien a great nudge and a wink.  "Very true,"
responded Alien, as though young Mr Parker had said something very wise and
witty.  Mr Parker responded by waving his stick at them and walking away.
"What a cheerful young man," Trish said.  "And a hard-working one," Alien
told her.  "Don't be put off by his airy manner.  He's ambitious, is young Mr
Parker."

"And are you ambitious, young Mr Marriott?"   Trish quizzed him.   "More
than you might think, young Miss Courtney.   More than you might think."
"And more than almost middle-aged Sir Gerard Schuyler thinks," retorted
Trish.   "What do we do now?"   "I suggest that we walk down into Greenwich
for lunch.   We can try to find a restaurant, or even a barrow which sells
shellfish so that you can enjoy the delights of mussels, winkles and
cockles."   Alien took her hand in his.   "But first I think we'll look  for
a shady place where we can sit down away from other people and have a little
rest.   Come."   And he walked her down the hill after they had both taken
one last long look at Flamsteed House and the Time Ball high above it.
Halfway down the hill Alien led her off the path towards a small stand of
distant trees.   Beneath them was one of the few benches in the park.   On
the way there they passed young couples, dressed in their holiday clothing,
lying side by side on the grass, their arms around one another.   Would Alien
ask her to lie beside him on the grass?   If he did would she agree?   Surely
not, must be the answer to both questions!   The mere thought excited Trish,
though, and when, once they were almost alone, he lifted her hand to his lips
and kissed the back of it very gently, the shivering sensation of delight
which passed over her was strong enough to make her fear--if that were the
right word--that she could deny him nothing.   If Alien noticed the shiver he
said nothing--but he thought a great deal.   He already knew how strongly
Trish was attracted to him--as he was to her--and had told himself sternly
that he must go carefully with the innocent creature which she undoubtedly
was.   On the other hand he also believed that she was more than ready for a
most important question, and after that for some gentle lovemaking, and where
better than here, alone, in the shade of the trees, with the Observatory high
above them and the River Thames taking its blue-grey way in the valley below?
Here Time was their friend and ally, not the enemy it could be at Park
Lane, where every moment they might spend together was perforce a snatched
one.   To begin with they admired the splendid view, and Alien quoted
Spenser, '"Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my Song..."   " " Poetry as
well as clocks,"

marvelled Trish.  "I would never have had such an interesting time if I had
been out with Harry.

He talks a lot, but he doesn't say very much.  " Alien laughed at this joke
for a moment, before his whole manner changed and his face assumed the
gravity with which Gerard had become familiar.  " My darling," he said,
taking her right hand in his, 'before we go any further there is something
important that I must say to you.  I love you very much and I believe that
you love me, so will you marry me?"  Trish closed her eyes before she
murmured, her voice shaking with emotion,

"You know I will, Alien, but what will Gerard say?"

"I have to admit that that is a problem for us.   Since our worldly
situation is unequal I am bound to be branded a fortune-hunter until I am
able to offer you more than I can at present.   I must therefore ask you
another question: will you wait for me?   I know that I am expecting a great
deal from you by demanding such a thing, but you know how matters stand."
"I will wait for you forever.   Alien, you know that."   "Then I am doubly
blessed, and would wish to bless you," he said humbly, raising her hand to
his lips again, this time to kiss her palm not once but several times, before
trailing tiny butterfly kisses on to her wrist and then up her bare arm to
the elbow, where her silken sleeve began.   Trish looked down at his dark
bent head, rapt, scarcely breathing, enjoying once more the state of delight
which the mere touch of his mouth brought her.   She gave a long shuddering
sigh when he stopped, lifted his head, looked into her eyes and asked, his
voice as soft as he could make it,

"Did you like that?"

"Oh, yes," she breathed.   "Good."   And taking her in his arms he drew her
gently towards him, saying,

"Then perhaps you might like this," before kissing her on the mouth.

 Again the kiss was as gentle as he could make it, although merely to hold
her close to him with her soft breasts against his hard chest, and the sweet
scent of her strong in his nostrils, roused him immediately.

Alien drew a deep breath, for he must not frighten her.  He must subdue his
rising desire to crush her to him, to make her his, to act in lust but not in
love.  Every instinct which he possessed told him that seduction would be
easy, for by all her bodily signs she was as roused as he was.  After their
long kiss he opened his eyes to find her face flushed, her mouth a swollen
rosebud, the pupils of her eyes dilated, large and black surrounded by
violet, and knew that she would offer him no resistance, nay, would willingly
cooperate with him.  He must not yield to temptation after he had proposed
marriage to her.  To violate her innocence, however much she might wish him
to, would be to degrade her.  It might at the worst expose her to the world's
contempt if the inevitable end of their loving should occur and she conceived
a child.

Not only would seducing her be the act of a careless cad, but it would also
justify every contemptuous thought which Gerard Schuyler had ever had about
him.  His own honour demanded that he should restrain himself lest he destroy
hers.  He lifted himself away from her a little, only to find that, having
opened her eyes, she leaned forward to take his face in her hands and kiss
him on the mouth as gently as he had kissed her.  Alien could not prevent
himself from responding to her initiative.

It was so typical of her.  The kiss lengthened and deepened until she drew
away from him, looked earnestly into his eyes, and said, artlessly, .  he was
sure,

"I shouldn't have done that, should I?  It was j very forward of me.  My
mother always said men don't like i forward girls."  | What could he say to
her?  That many men liked forward |  girls?  That he loved her regardless of
whether she was forward or not?  Or even.  My dearest love, I don't think
that you have the remotest notion of how a truly forward girl behaves.
Instead he said, "My dearest love, I certainly don't think you forward.  What
I do think is that I want to make gentle love to you, and if you make it back
to me, as you have just done, I like that, too."  Trish's eyes glowed;
indeed, her whole face glowed.  "Yes, please," she offered to both his
statements.  "Oh, Alien," she continued, a mixture of love and desperation in
her voice, 'do other people feel like this?  That they want to be one with
the other?  Oh, I know that we can't be out here, and I'm not even sure what
being one with another means.  I only know that I love you and want to be
with you always, and I can only hope that it won't be long before we can
marry.  " " And I hope that as well,"

he agreed.  "But we must be good as well as patient, although God knows it
will be very hard for both of us.  I wish most desperately to marry you, but
until we are able to marry we may only be gentle with one another, like
this."  And he kissed her again.  This time it was the hollow of her throat
which he celebrated, the tender mauve of it in the shade of the trees.  She
shuddered again, and the shudder alone roused him even more.  Alien shook his
head, and said hoarsely,

"I wonder if you would like being stroked," and ran his hands gently up the
sides of her neck until he reached her face, where he held her head gently
between his hands and kissed her again.  For some moments they kissed and
stroked one another's face, neck, arms and hands.  Alien could not resist
putting his hands around Trish's tiny waist and then running them up, up to
her shoulders, gently flicking the silk over her small round breasts on the
way.  This produced even further  shudders from Trish, and a gasping moan
which excited Alien even further: to the degree that he drew back immediately
lest he lose his fragile self-control.  Trish looked at him with huge blind
eyes.  Alien gasped,

"Enough for now," and kissed her chastely on the brow.  "Yes,"

breathed Trish, but she hardly knew what she was saying.  She took his large
right hand in her two small ones and they sat side by side, saying nothing
until Alien, who had now cooled down, said

"Time to go, I think."  Like Adam and Eve leaving Eden at the end of Milton's
great epic poem.  Alien and Trish felt that they were abandoning Paradise for
the mundane world outside.  Time had stopped for them--but was running again,
faster than ever.  "I feel hungry," announced Trish, 'for the first time in
weeks.  " Alien's hunger was of quite a different nature, but he did not say
so.  Instead he came out with,

"We'll cure that when we reach Greenwich."  They did.  Alien found not a
barrow but a little eating house with lace-curtained windows where he
introduced Trish to the delights of the shellfish which ordinary Londoners
took for granted.  The care's owner, a large woman with a jolly face, made a
fuss of them.  She fed them oysters, mussels, cockles and winkles together
with a large wooden platter of bread and a dish of butter.  As promised,
Alien ordered porter for them to go with their second course of jellied eels.
Trish daintily drank a small amount of it from a large tankard.  "Well?"
queried Alien, his face amused.  "Not as horrid as I thought that it might
be," conceded Trish.  "I think that I might even manage a little more."
"Good girl!"  he said, drinking down his own porter, thinking again how
different she was from some of the  finicky society women he had seen in
Park Lane--and how much he loved her because she was.  It was when they left
the cafe that he had the strongest impression that he was being watched:
strong enough that he looked around him, but among the crowd of people
filling the pavement he could see no one who looked at all suspicious.  He
laughed at himself a little for imagining that a clandestine watcher might
wear a placard announcing what he was doing.  It was no laughing matter if he
were being watched.  This was the second time in the week that he had had the
impression of unknown eyes boring into his back, and it was not a pleasant
one.  He said nothing to Trish, and when they travelled back on the steamer
towards Central London, and the stand where Trish would take a cab back to
Park Lane, he put his right arm around her shoulders as they stood by the
rail and defied the gods to harm them.  The gods were kind to them both on
the journey home, and when she left him he watched her go, longing for the
day to come when they would not need to part when it ended.  Her face glowing
with the memory of those few brief, but glorious moments when Alien had put
his arms around her and made gentle love to her, Trish encountered Torry
Schuyler in the entrance hall at Park Lane.  "You and Lucy have enjoyed
yourselves today, I see," remarked Torry.  This was the one result of her
secret life with Alien which Trish most disliked: lying by implication to
someone who had always been kind to her.  She said nothing more than an
appreciative and breathless,

"Oh, yes."  A brief sentence which, of itself, was the truth--but a truth
designed to deceive.  Torry, who knew perfectly well that Trish had not been
 with Lucy, said cheerfully, determined not to give away her own secret
knowledge yet,

"I would be grateful if you could see your way to a rapid change of clothing
and come down to tea.  I have just been informed that Lady Norman has arrived
and is in the green drawing room--Harry is apparently closeted with Gerard.
" I could do with your moral support if nothing else.  " " Of course.  I will
be as quick as I can.  " Ringing for her maid, having her hair brushed, and
changing into a filmy tea gown whose pinks and mauves complemented her violet
eyes left no time for Trish to sit and savour her memories of her trip to
Greenwich Observatory.  She was a little puzzled as to why Torry should be so
urgent in her request to join her downstairs.  Lady Norman rose when she
entered the green drawing room, and greeted her effusively, kissing her on
the cheek, holding her at arm's length when she had finished, and exclaiming,

"You look more charming than ever these days, my dear.  I believe that I know
the reason for that," she added.  This confused Trish a little.  Lady Norman,
however, was referring in her arch way to the number of times on which Harry
had escorted Trish to the season's most prestigious events.  There were no
other visitors but the Lady, and no sign of Harry--presumably he was still
closeted with Gerard.  Trish accepted a cup of tea, but refused anything to
eat: the memory of the whelks and oysters she and Alien had enjoyed was still
with her.  As at all afternoon tea parties they talked of inanities.

Trish often wondered at Torry's patience on such occasions.  She knew that
her guardian was a clever woman, who had written a temperate but pointed book
on the disabilities which women suffered--among them the lack of the right to
vote.  It was scarcely a topic, she thought, smiling to herself, which would
interest Lady Norman, who was quite content with her own position in society
and would have agreed with Queen Victoria that women ought not to hanker
after more rights than they already possessed.  Lady Norman saw Trish's smile
and mistakenly thought it a reaction to the topic under discussion, which was
who would and who would not be invited to Lady Leominster's reception, one of
the last which would be held before the season ended.  "Oh, I gather by your
expression.  Miss Courtney, that you and Sir Gerard and Lady Schuyler have
already been invited.  Her guest list does rather separate those who matter
in society from those who do not.  Harry and I have, of course, already
received our invitation."  This last came out in what Alien had once
described to Trish as the society woman's preening mode--something adopted
when the speaker thought that she had scored a point over someone else.  Lady
Norman's whole life consisted in scoring such points, and doubtless she would
expect Harry's wife to join her in the game.  The thought that before the
season began she might just have taken Harry seriously, even married him,
made Trish feel quite faint.  It also told her how far she had travelled both
emotionally and intellectually since Alien had rescued her from the
Birmingham/ London train wreck.  Tony, though, knew that Trish's smile
probably had little to do with anything which might preoccupy Lady Norman.
Her own reaction was to turn the subject, and beg Lady Norman to consider
joining one of the many committees with which she was involved.  "Oh, my
dear, no," responded the Lady archly.  "You do such good work on them, I
know, but they are not my sort of thing at all.

Not at all.  " She paused, looked at her watch, and said,

"I am sure that we ought to have heard something by now."

 In her innocence Trish wondered to what she was referring, and almost as
though he had heard her the butler entered, and said,

"Your pardon.

Lady Schuyler, but Sir Gerard asks that Miss Courtney will have the goodness
to join him in his study.  " Lady Norman's face glowed with anticipation.
Trish looked at Tony, who said gently,

"Indeed, I am sure that Miss Courtney will be only too willing to oblige Sir
Gerard."  Light suddenly dawned!  Trish looked from Tony's grave face to Lady
Norman's beaming one and back again.  Harry had undoubtedly been seeking
Gerard's permission to ask for her hand in marriage.  She had not the
slightest desire to go upstairs simply in order to refuse him--but there was
no help for it.  "Very well," she said, and rose to follow the butler, who
for some reason the moment they were out of the room abandoned his stiff face
and was now giving her an odd stare which she could not interpret--other than
that it was not friendly.  And why should that be?  She had little time to
address this problem--or rather time had shrunk again: one moment she was in
the green drawing room and in the next she was facing Gerard, who was alone.
He advanced towards her, smiling a little.  "My dear, I am happy to see you
look so blooming.  I am also happy to inform you that I have just been
speaking to Harry Norman, with whom you have spent many afternoons this
summer.

He has asked me for my permission to offer for your hand in marriage, and I
was pleased to consent to his wishes.  He is, as you know, a good young man,
with a large fortune, and will succeed to his father's title in the fullness
of time.  "Should you decide to accept him I shall be delighted to  give you
both my blessing.  He is waiting for you in the upstairs drawing room."

"Do I have to see him?   I don't want to marry anyone yet."   Trish was
disturbed by how frantic she sounded, not at all her usual equable self.
Gerard's smile did not exactly disappear, but it grew a little strained.
"Come, come, my dear, you have virtually encouraged him all summer in the
belief that you are interested in him by going everywhere in his company, and
it is a little late to change your mind now."   Trish stood stock-still and
stricken.   The innocent masquerade which she had embarked upon with Harry
had turned into something not quite so innocent after all!   There was no way
in which she could avoid a confrontation with him other than by telling
Gerard what she had thought was the truth

"But Harry knows that I am not interested in marrying him, nor is he
interested in marrying me.  We are good friends, nothing more."  Gerard said,

"That may have been true in the beginning, but Harry obviously believes that
the friendship between you has matured into love."

"As far as I am concerned, that is not true," returned Trish bluntly.
"Nevertheless, my dear, I think that you must do him the honour of seeing him
and allowing him to press his suit," said Gerard gently, since he could tell
that Trish was genuinely distressed.   "Very well."   Trish could not fault
Gerard for wanting her to consider Harry's offer carefully.   After all, that
was his duty as a guardian, and Harry was considered to be one of the catches
of the season.   He passed all the tests of eligibility which Trish's world
considered important.   Gerard's relief was patent.

"Good," he said approvingly.

 "You at least owe him the opportunity to make his offer to you personally."
He paused before resuming with,

"I am not putting any pressure on you to accept his offer, you understand,
merely ensuring that you give it your proper consideration."

"I shall certainly do that," Trish assured him fervently.   Nevertheless,
entering the upstairs drawing room, where she found Harry sitting in an
armchair pretending to read the latest issue of the Illustrated London News,
she felt quite sick with worry.   He rose to his feet, smiling, throwing the
magazine down on to a side table.   "Darling Trish," he said,

"Gerard has told you that he is permitting me to offer for you.  Do say yes,
I beg of you, and you will make me the happiest chap alive.  I promise to be
a good husband--kind and faithful and all that."  He seemed to have forgotten
that she had already told him that she wished only to be his friend, not his
wife-- he probably thought these were the female whim-whams of a girl faced
with marriage!  "Oh, Harry," she said sorrowfully.  "I told you that I wished
to be your friend and nothing more, and I have not changed my mind since
then.  I'm sure that you can find another girl better suited to you than I
am."

 "No, no, dear Trish.

It's all my fault," he went on, his face shining with a mixture of love and
excitement, 'for being straightforward and blunt, isn't it?  I really ought
to have gone down on my knees and offered you endless devotion as well as
marriage, but when you came in everything flew out of my head."  Trish
reflected sadly that this was a common occurrence where Harry was concerned.
His enthusiasm outran his common sense--particularly when he was with her.  i

"It's nothing to do with that.  Harry.  You could have been I Cinderella's
Prince arriving with her glass slipper and I would still have refused you."
"But it's such a suitable match for us both, do admit."

"No, I don't admit it at all.   Most unsuitable.   You wouldn't like having
me for a wife."   "Why ever not?   I know I should!"   Trish cast wildly
about her for something convincing to say.   "Well, I should want to do all
sorts of things you--- and your mother--wouldn't approve of--' He interrupted
her indignantly.   " I'm sure you wouldn't.   " " But I would.   I would like
to join the Suffragettes and campaign for Votes for Women, and throw water at
important people and misbehave in the gallery of the House of Commons.   "
His perplexity was evident.   " You don't do any of those things now--why
should you do them when you are my wife?   " " Because I should be much more
free to do as I please-married women are, you know.   And then I shall.   buy
a bicycle and ride it down Piccadilly.   You wouldn't like that--you told me
so once.

As well as make all sorts of unsuitable men friends--I've always envied
Violet Kenil- worth and Lily Langtry.  " Trish was referring to two women
famous for their liaisons.  She was secretly appalled at the series of lies
which flowed from her in her efforts to discourage Harry.

Fortunately they seemed to be working.  "No, you're quite right," he conceded
sadly.  "Mother wouldn't like any of that at all--she'd expect to live with
us when we were married, you know, and she would be very upset if you carried
on like that.  I couldn't bear her to be upset."

He frowned.  "You're sure that that's how you would go on?  You're not just
teasing me?"  Trish shook her head.  "Dear me, no.  I've been thinking 
about it a lot lately."  Another thundering lie, but unfortunately these days
lies seemed to be working better than the truth!  "That's that, then.  I can
see that it wouldn't do at all.  I suppose some men wouldn't mind, but I
would.  If you change your mind about your behaviour when we're married, do
let me know--if I haven't changed my mind about wanting to marry you, that
is, and fancy someone else."  He was so doleful that for the first time Trish
felt unhappy at behaving in such a way as to make him unhappy.  But if her
happy days with Alien had taught her anything it was that she would make a
most unsuitable wife for such a cheerful ass as Harry Norman, however
well-meaning he was in his feckless way.  And to have to live with Lady
Norman didn't bear thinking of.  They both stood silent and awkward before a
situation for which no rules of etiquette existed.  "I suppose I ought to
leave after wishing you all the best in the future.  You know where to find
me if you change your mind," Harry finally came out with.

Trish's answer was heartfelt.  "And I wish you all the best.  The only thing
which I regret is that we ever set out to deceive your mother and the
Schuylers."

"I suppose you're right."   Something struck him.   "This fellow Marriott
that you fancy.   Would you behave so wildly after you married him?   Or has
he let you know he wouldn't mind?"   "We haven't got as far as that yet.
I've only told you how I feel at the minute."   This evasive answer appeared
to offer Harry some hope.   His face brightened immediately, but he said no
more before the door closed behind him, leaving Trish with the difficult task
of telling Gerard that she had, after due consideration, refused Harry's
splendid offer.

Trish returned to her rooms to change again for the evening.  She was
beginning to find this constant attention to her clothing and her hair more
than a little tiresome.  She was finally arrayed in all her splendour to
attend the dinner party which Gerard was giving that night when there was a
rap on her door.  It was Torry Schuyler--like herself, already dressed in
what she had once jokingly referred to as 'my war-paint.  " War-paint or not,
she looked splendid and a little formidable.  " Gerard tells me that you
refused Harry Norman's proposal this afternoon.  I cannot say that I am
surprised.  I wondered if you might like to talk about it.  " They were
seated in armchairs opposite to one another in Trish's little sitting room.
Trish considered for a moment before answering.  Torry's voice had been kind,
not critical, but she felt a little hesitant about saying anything which
might later be held against her.  " I hope you will believe me when I tell
you that, while I quite like Harry as a friend to go about with, he is not at
all the kind of man whom I would wish to marry--and that was why I refused
him.  I thought that he understood that all I wanted was friendship, and I
believed that that was what he wanted, too.  I was sorry to learn that he had
changed his mind.  " Torry nodded.  " That was what I thought might be the
reason why you refused him.  I told Gerard that you probably valued him as a
friend.  He was a little upset that you refused him, but he agreed with me
that the decision must be yours and that we ought to put no pressure on you
to reconsider.  " " That was kind of you both," said Trish gratefully.  Torry
was brisk.  " No more than we ought to be.  And now let us forget it.  By
your expression when you came in you had enjoyed your day out.  "

"Yes, I did."  Trish offered no account of where she had been, and Torry
allowed the omission to pass.  She spoke briefly of their guests that
evening, ending,

"Gerard would have liked Mr Marriott to be present tonight in order to meet
Mr Jordan Foster, with whom he might need to do some work Mr Foster being
sometimes Gerard's business collaborator and sometimes his rival but it was
Mr Marriott's day off and he had made other arrangements, he said, which
could not be altered.  " Gerard did not make an issue of it he thinks highly
of him as a secretary, although, apparently, not very highly of him as a
person.  I wondered what you think of him he is nearer in age to you than to
Gerard and me.  " This last question came out artlessly, almost as though it
were an afterthought, and it was a difficult one for Trish to answer.  " He
is always very polite, and my maid tells me that he is most considerate in
his dealings with the servants.  I have also gained the impression that he
does not consider Gerard as a person any more highly than Gerard considers
him.  " This was saying everything and nothing.  Torry nodded.  " My opinion
exactly.  I also believe that he is a very deep young man and that there is
more to him than appears on the surface.  Nevertheless I like him which
surprises Gerard.  I tell him that it is women's intuition working, to which
he replies,

"Pish tush!"

Not in those words, of course, but that is his meaning.  " Trish began to
laugh.  Without thinking she rose from her chair, walked over to Torry and
kissed her on the cheek, saying,

"You know that you are really the mother I never had.  My own mother was an
invalid and it was not her fault that she could never do very much for me."
The real reason that she had kissed Torry was because she had been kind about
Alien.  Later, brooding over this conversation, Trish wondered if Torry's
intuition had given  her some hint of her own feelings for Alien, and she
spent her time during dinner and afterwards trying to discover whether there
was any foundation for this suspicion.  Torry, however, said and did nothing
out of the ordinary, leaving Trish to feel vaguely discomfited without
finding any valid reason for being so!  Alien entered the Schuylers' Park
Lane home around eleven of the clock.  He had no wish to use the front door
and be bearded by the butler, who obviously disliked him.  He walked through
the empty kitchen, yawning gently and blessing the absence of the staff who
had retired for the night after their long day.  He almost had his hand on
the green-baize-covered door which led to the Schuylers' living quarters when
it opened, and Timson, Gerard's valet came in.  Alien had always considered
Timson a bit of a mystery.

He ghosted around the house like a knowing servant in a novel by Henry James,
so portentous was his expression.  He had rarely spoken to Alien, who was
that hybrid, someone who was neither servant nor master.

Timson didn't have much to do with the other servants, either.  Tonight,
though, was different.  About to pass him.  Alien found himself being
addressed by Timson in the voice which was peculiarly his own.  A voice which
always carried subtle overtones of double meaning--even when he said yes or
no.  "Ah, Mr Marriott, late home, I see.  You look tired."

This was no less than the truth.  Alien had spent his time since Trish had
left him working on an old clock which Mr Nance had been unable to repair,
and which, after a deal of patience and internal bad language, he had been
able to subdue--Mr Nance's word for a solution to a difficult problem.  Alien
nodded.  Timson continued as though Alien had not  responded in any way.  "I
think that it might make you a little happier to learn that this afternoon
Miss Courtney refused Mr Harry Norman when he came to propose to her.  In my
opinion, she was most wise not to accept him.  " Good night, Mr Marriott.
Sleep well.  " And he ghosted away.  Thunderstruck, Alien stared after him.
What in Hades was all that about?  Was Timson in his oblique way wishing him
well with Trish?  Surely not.  But it was a thoughtful Alien Marriott who
took Tim- son's words to bed with him that night.

Chapter Nine You are telling me, Morris, that this young fellow Marriott not
only continues to conceal his other interests from Sir Gerard, but is also
still meeting his ward on the sly-- having been expressly forbidden to have
anything to do with her!  " " So the butler informs me.  What is more to the
point is that I have been recommended to Sir Gerard, who also needs some work
done for him.  He has apparently become aware that something odd and
financially damaging has been going on at Schuyler's and wishes to discover
who is behind it.

Naturally I did not inform him that I am employed by you to do something
quite different, and I accepted his offer with pleasure!  "

Morris's interrogator began to laugh.  "Did you, indeed?  Better and better.
It occurs to me that we may be able to provide him with an answer which will
leave us in the clear but which Mr Alien Marriott might not like.  Keep me
informed."

"Indeed--the thing which will please you most is that Sir Gerard has asked
me to keep my appointment a secret from all his staff, including his
secretary."   Norris dismissed, his employer leaned back in his chair and
read again the report which had arrived from Pinker- ton's that morning and
which had caused him some amusement and some bemusement.

All unknown to everyone, Alien Marriott was none other than Sir Gerard
Schuyler's cousin!  And the fact that he had never acknowledged him in any
way--not even to his wife--told an interested observer that Gerard Schuyler
must have some reservations about him, particularly since the butler's report
had hinted at hostility between the pair of them.  The rest of the season was
sweet torture for Alien and Trish.  Unable to meet secretly very often
because ofTrish's involvement in its increasingly hectic pace, they were
confined to seeing one another only when they passed on the stairs or in
corridors.  Occasionally they were both present at dinner on the few
occasions when the Schuylers dined alone, or when Gerard required Alien's
attendance because he wished him to meet one of the guests.  Now that she was
almost inaccessible, he thought ruefully, Trish had never looked more
beautiful.  For her part the sight of Alien seated opposite to her, grave and
calm, quite unlike the lively man with whom she had laughed and joked, and
who had made such gentle, lyrical love to her, was unbearably hard when she
had to pretend not to know him well.  One way in which they could communicate
was by letter, their names and addresses carefully printed.  Alien had
decided that print was safer than handwriting because it was highly likely
that the servants would examine their correspondence before it was placed on
the table in the entrance hall.  He had the strongest feeling that he was
being watched--not only at Park Lane, where he knew from what Trish had
overheard that the butler was spying on him, but when he left it.  However
much he tried, though, he was never able to detect anyone in the act.  He
told Mr Nance of his suspicions on one of his evening visits after he had
finished putting the final touches to the paper he was due to read at the
British Horological Institute.  He never took anything that belonged to his
life as a horologist to Park Lane because he was certain that his rooms there
had been searched more than once.  They were drinking coffee together before
Alien left to return to Park Lane.  Mr Nance heard him out, then thought for
a few moments, his old face sad.  "What makes you believe this.  Alien?"  he
asked.  "Your intuition--or do you have any evidence?"

"I have a little evidence."   And he told Mr Nance what Trish had overheard:
that the butler was spying on him at Park Lane on behalf of Mr Hall, for what
reason he was not entirely sure.   "But there's more to it than that,"

he added.  "I have the strongest sense of being watched in the street, so
strong sometimes that the hairs on my neck stand on end.  Now that cannot be
the butler, for I always leave him on duty at Park Lane.  You might, I
suppose, call what I am experiencing intuition.  Also, I am having bad dreams
which I cannot remember when I wake up."  He shook his head violently.  "That
all makes me sound frightfully namby-pamby, doesn't it?  There is no one else
I would willingly confide in but you--indeed, my situation is such that there
is no one else but you I can confide in.  I don't want to worry Trish by
speaking of it to her, even though I'm afraid that someone may also be
watching her."

"I can quite understand how disagreeable this must be," said Mr Nance.
"You know.   Alien, in my long life I have acquired some odd friends.   Would
you like me to make some discreet enquiries of them for you?"   "Only if it
will not endanger you."

"You sense danger, then?"

"I fear so."   It was the old man's turn to shake his head.   "I am willing
to undertake that risk," he said.   What impressed Alien the most was that Mr
Nance was considering what he had told him seriously.   He had thought that
the old man might dismiss what he had to say and try to reassure him by
suggesting that he was feeling unhappy now that he was not able to see Trish
so often, and was translating that unhappiness into the sensation of an
unnamed, unidentifiable menace.   They looked together at the big clock over
the mantelpiece.   Alien rose reluctantly.   "Time to go," he said.   "One
more thing.   If you feel that you might be putting yourself into danger,
drop your enquiries at once, I beg of you."   "You are my true friend,"
responded Mr Nance, as gently as ever.   "For my true friend I would do
anything.   You are not to worry about me.   Worry about yourself and Trish,
if you must."   Alien stopped on the way to the door.

"There is one other thing which might or might not be important.  This is for
your ears only, not to be told to anyone.  Something has happened which
supports my belief that there have been criminal goings-on at Schuyler's and
that it may be connected with my predecessor, Mr Hall.  Trish overheard him
bribing the butler for information about me.  Had / overheard them talking I
might have gone to Sir Gerard about it, but I don't want to involve Trish in
this.  They would probably say that she was a silly girl who had
misunderstood them, and Sir Gerard would jump to all the wrong conclusions
about why she should have imagined it.  " Somehow, though, I have the feeling
that it might be connected with my vague sense of being menaced.  Why I
should think this, I don't know.  I've no reason to believe that there is a
vast conspiracy against me involving spies and criminals, and I can't
believe that Mr Hall is stalking me in the street!  What I do know is that I
am on the verge of a complete understanding of what might be wrong with
Schuyler's accounts.  Up to now I had very little hard evidence to offer
Gerard, which would make what I might say to him sound like vague whim-whams.
" " Oh, I don't think they're whim-whams," responded Mr Nance.  " Just try
to forget them and sleep well tonight.  I know that's a useless piece of
advice, but I feel that I have to offer it to you.  " Alien was thinking
about his discussion with Mr Nance when he reached Park Lane.  Sir Gerard was
entertaining that night, and he knew that some of the servants would still be
in the kitchen.  He was on his way to the stairs when the drawing room door
opened and his employer came out, escorting a heavyset man and his fat wife
who were apparently about to leave.

Gerard's face brightened when he saw Alien.  "The very man!  I have twice
hoped that I might introduce my new secretary, Mr Alien Marriott, to you when
you came to dine, Foster, but both times I was entertaining you on his day
off, when he had made other, and binding, arrangements.

He comes quite apropos tonight, however.  "I have the honour, Mr Marriott, to
present you to Mr Jordan Foster and his wife.  I have spoken of him to you a
number of times, Foster, and now he has the privilege of meeting you."  Alien
mumbled something duly humble out of which crept the words,

"Honoured, I'm sure," as he bowed.  "I understand that you're the young
fellow who's taken over Hall's position.  His is a hard act for you to
follow, as I am sure you understand."

 Alien managed to say,

"Indeed, sir," without his face losing its usual appearance of impassive
severity.  "I gather that you are to take the minutes of the first meeting of
the consortium which is to bid for the next Underground Line, now that it
seems that the Central Railway is sure to be a success when it opens.
There's a great deal of enthusiasm already for the Tuppenny Tube, as it has
been named, since every journey on it, long or small, will only cost
tuppence.  It will be exactly the thing to usher in a new, democratic
century."  It was plain to Alien that Jordan Foster and his wife were fellow
Americans, but neither of them possessed, or had chosen to adopt, the manners
and habits of the British among whom they lived, as Sir Gerard and Lady
Schuyler had done.  Indeed, they were both by dress and speech almost
caricatures of the un civilised Yankees who turned up in bad plays, not at all
like the people among whom he had lived in the United States.

He recalled that Foster had made his money in copper and that it was rumoured
that his wife had been a barmaid in a mining camp.  She certainly had the
remnants of great good looks of a brassy order.  "I shall look forward to
being connected with such a noble enterprise, particularly one which furthers
those ideals dear to all good American hearts," Alien agreed, still duly
humble.  He saw Gerard look sharply at him and wondered for a moment if he
had overdone things for once.

His cousin, however, said nothing, and concentrated on bidding his guest
goodnight.  The footman arrived with Jordan Foster's overcoat and his wife's
wrap.  The butler saw them to the door.  Alien bowed gracefully in their
direction and made to retire.  Gerard, however, signalled for him to remain
and ushered him into a side-room, not the drawing room where Torry was
waiting for him.  "You will remember, I hope," he said coldly, 'that it
greatly benefits Schuyler Inc.  for us to remain on good terms with Jordan
Foster.  Whether we like the man or not is beside the point.  " " Oh, I am in
absolute agreement," said Alien earnestly.  " That is why I tried very hard
to please him by emphasising my devotion to the noble motives which so
obviously inspire his business ventures.  " There, he had overdone it, he was
sure.  He waited for Gerard's inevitable explosion, but when it came it was
not at all what he had expected.  His cousin gave a great burst of laughter
and clapped him on the back.  " Couldn't have put it better myself," he
finally gasped.  " I only beg that you will spare me the edge of your
tongue--not, I think, that Foster was aware that you were roasting him.  "
Alien's control never faltered.

"Who, me?"  he asked, eyebrows raised a little haughtily.  "I never roast
anyone.  Every word I ever utter is always heartfelt, I do assure you."  He
had again wrong-footed Gerard, who stopped laughing to stare at him.  "I do
believe that you mean what you say," he came out with at last, 'incredible
though that might be.  Go to bed, man, you look done in.  Being humble must
be wearing work.  " Alien bowed.  Neither by word, deed or facial expression
would he cede Gerard anything.  " Thank you, sir.  Yes, I am a little tired.
Very gracious of you.  " He made his way up the stairs, aware that Gerard's
eyes were boring into his back.  His own laughter was silent, but...
heartfelt all the same.  Very few men ever succeeded in dancing Gerard
around, but it seemed to come naturally to him.

 One day, though, he would go too far--and what would happen then?

Alien was doomed to meet Jordan Foster again, and more than once.  After
Alien had taken the minutes of the consortium's meeting about the
Underground, Gerard invited Foster and his wife to a small dinner party at
which he asked Alien to be present.  Almost unconsciously he was using Alien
more and more, not only as a secretary but as someone with whom he might
discuss matters of policy.  Unaware of their secret meetings, he thought that
Alien had taken his orders not to associate with Trish very well-- another
point in his favour.  "It's probably a bonus that I never know exactly what
he's thinking," he told Torry in Irish's presence.  "If I can't tell then
neither can my competitors.

He'd be a great man to keep a secret and no mistake!  " Trish smiled to
herself when she thought of all the secrets which Alien was keeping.

Her only worry was that one day Gerard might discover the most important of
them all--that she and Alien were disobeying his express orders.  Not that
they had been alone together very much since their visit to Greenwich.  By
accident, however, they managed to spend some time together in the library on
the morning of the dinner party.  She was sitting at the map table examining
a huge folio of Piranesi prints of fearsome and imaginary dungeons and
prisons.  Mr Nance had spoken of them one day when he and Alien had been
talking about strange works of art.  He had travelled in Italy as a very
young man, and he had never forgotten being shown them by a friend he had
made there.  The very name had intrigued Trish and she had asked Gerard's
librarian about him.  He had told her that the library possessed a book of
his etchings which some eighteenth-century traveller had brought from Italy,
and he had left it out for her to inspect.  She had been meaning to look at
it for some time, but her life had grown very busy and had given her little
spare time in which to visit the library.  At the back of her mind that
morning had been the hope that the librarian would not be there and that she
might meet Alien.  Both wishes were to be fulfilled.  Dr Ryan wasn't there,
and she had been looking at the mysterious drawings for some time, wishing
that someone would explain them to her, when Alien walked in.  His face lit
up at the sight of her.  "Well met--and no one could have accused us of
having planned this meeting," he said softly, 'since I had no notion that you
were here.  " He walked over to where she sat.  " I see that you have found
the Piranesi etchings of which Mr Nance spoke.  " Trish stood up in order
that he might be able to inspect them, too.  " True," she said, smiling at
him, 'for once we are innocent--unlike these drawings, which make me shiver
because they seem so menacing, although nothing terrible is happening in
them."  That is because Piranesi has drawn them in such a way that you almost
see the suffering people who are not there--which is far more powerful than
showing them being tortured--your mind does that for you.  " Trish looked at
him.  " How do you know so much.  Alien?  You are quite unlike most of the
men with whom I am acquainted.  Harry, for instance, appears to know nothing.
He has a good seat on a horse and that's about it!  "

Alien shrugged and looked a little uncomfortable.  "Oh, I make no claim to
universal knowledge.  Far from it.  But my life was a lonely one until I met
Mr Nance and then you, and I filled it by reading and studying anything I
came across which interested me.  Robert Louis Stevenson, the  novelist and
poet, once wrote,

"The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure that we should all be
as happy as kings."  Some of the things in the world comforted me and became
my friends.  They also made me think.  " He had never said very much about
his past life, and that he had chosen to tell her a little of it showed how
much he was beginning to trust--as well as to love--her.  " Stevenson may be
right," Trish said, 'but despite that, many people are unhappy."  Alien
smiled.  "I think happiness has to be earned," he told her.  "It's not a
right, and in any case it's hard to be happy if you're penniless and don't
know where the next meal is coming from.  My life was not hard after that
fashion, and consequently it has been relatively easy for me to find
happiness.  The people I dislike are those whose life is comfortable and who
spend their time complaining about how bored and unhappy they are."  Trish
said quietly,

"Some women are unhappy because their lives are aimless--particularly young
society women who have not been educated and whose sole purpose in life is to
find a husband.  What happens to them if they don't?  Or if they have very
little money, are unable to earn a living and are condemned to be maiden
aunts and spinsters, forever dependent on the bounty of others."  Alien
smiled a rueful smile.  "It can happen to young men, too," he said.  "But I
agree, such women are in a worse case than men."  Trish said spiritedly,
"Women should be educated just like men.  I'm sure that I should have liked
to have been."

"Spoken like a true Suffragette, Trish.   Are you going to join the
movement?"   "Don't tease.   Alien, although I suppose I deserve it for
teasing Harry by suggesting that he wouldn't want to marry me because if I
did become his wife I should immediately begin to tie myself to railings and
do all the things which Suffragettes do."   "And will you do that when we are
married, my darling?"   They were standing close together now, and only the
thought that someone might enter and find them in a compromising position was
stopping Alien from taking her in his arms.   "No, indeed.   For one thing, I
am not sure that it will answer.   It does seem rather odd to me that you try
to prove that women are responsible people who deserve the vote by behaving
irresponsibly!   There must be a better way-though I can't think of one."
Alien, in his saner moments, would have agreed with her immediately, but
standing opposite to her, looking at her charmingly indignant face, her
violet eyes flashing at him, her mouth set in a determined line once she had
finished speaking, was doing odd things to him.   He would never have
believed that he could be roused so quickly.   A few moments passed before it
took him all his self control, hardened over the years, to reply to her,
saying,

"Logic rarely determines these matters, my darling."

"I suppose not.   Speaking of other things, Torry has told me that you will
be present at the dinner party tonight.   Another occasion for us to meet
quite innocently."   Before he had time to answer her they heard the sound of
footsteps advancing along the corridor outside.   Alien moved quickly away
and vanished through the door to the office before the main library door
opened and Dr Ryan entered to find her alone and apparently absorbed in
studying Piranesi's disturbing drawings, with which she occupied herself
until dinner time neared.   Alien was still in Trish's thoughts when she had
finished dressing for dinner.   She was wearing her pale mauve  toilette and
was trying to read the latest number of the Illustrated London News when
Torry visited her.   "I thought that we might have a quiet word together
before we join Gerard.   I should have spoken to you earlier, but we were
late returning home.   This is something which I have been putting off, but
Gerard made a remark this afternoon which made me think that I ought to raise
it with you as soon as possible."

Goodness, whatever could be exercising Torry, who looked a trifle embarrassed
before she began to speak?  Could it possibly be something to do with her and
Alien?  It was.  Trish tried to be as calm as Alien always was.  She asked
Torry to be seated--largely because she thought that it might ease the
tension from which they were both suffering.  "I hope that what I have to say
won't distress you overmuch.  Perhaps I ought to begin with a question which
I hope you will feel able to answer truthfully.  Have you been secretly
meeting Alien Marriott?"  Now this was clever of Torry, for she surely knew
that Trish would not give her the lie direct.  Nor did she.  "Since you put
it like that," said Trish, still calm,

"I am compelled to tell you that I have."

"I thought that you and he were strongly attracted to one another."   Torry
felt that she ought to explain further.   "And something which Lucy
Chalfont's mother said to me made me suspicious.   That, added to the way in
which you look at one another."   "Oh, dear," murmured Trish, still calm.
"Are we so obvious?"   "Not to most, I suspect.   I am bound to ask you
whether you think you are being wise--and whether you are being fair to Mr
Marriott.   I recently learned that Gerard told him  that he was not to have
anything to do with you--and, after all, we--and you--know very little about
him."   Trish kept her composure with difficulty.   "I have found out a great
deal about him," she said" 'now that I have got to know him better."
"Gerard was fearful that he might be after your fortune," Tony said.   "He
also thinks that Mr Marriott is too clever for his own good and perhaps might
treat you in such a way that marriage would be inevitable--leaving you with
no choice but to marry him."   Trish's struggle not to say anything which she
might later regret was plain to see.   "That he might seduce me, you mean.
Do you think that?"   "I'm bound to say no, except that you are very young
and he is not only older than you but, as Gerard says, deep.   I must ask you
to reconsider, to stand back a little, perhaps.   I must repeat: you know
very little of him.   That he has persuaded you to meet him in secret is not
a good sign."   Trish was hamstrung by the fact that Alien did not wish her
to tell anyone of his life with Mr Nance, or of his heroism in the railway
accident, nor of his high standing in the British Horological Institute.
All that she could say was, quite simply,

"I know that he is brave, that he is clever and that he is good and kind.  He
has never said anything wrong to me, or given me the slightest reason to
believe that he wishes to ruin me for his own ends."

"Nevertheless," said Torry reasonably, 'these are merely your impressions of
him.   Without hard evidence to support your beliefs they must only remain
those of an inexperienced girl.   I wish that you had spoken to Gerard and me
before you embarked on a campaign of deceit with him.   Gerard's bark is
worse than his bite, you know.   Before we married that might not have been
true, but he has changed  very much since then.   If you and Mr Marriott
would confide in him, I believe that he might listen to you.   " " I think,"
said Trish slowly, unwilling to give any of Alien's secrets away, 'no, I am
sure, that Alien would find it difficult to confide in Gerard.   That is the
impression I have gained from being with him over the summer."   Gerard had
said something similar to Torry"--I don't know whether I like him or not, but
I'm damned sure that he dislikes me."   --so she did not argue with Trish.
There was nothing more which Trish could say; she could only listen to Torry
beg her again to give up seeing Alien and reconsider her current behaviour.
When Torry had finished Trish said simply,

"Are you going to tell Sir Gerard about us--that we are meeting secretly and
have no intention of stopping?  You must understand that I am twenty-three
years old, and were it not for Father's will making me dependent until I am
twenty-five neither you nor Gerard could prevent us from meeting quite
openly."

 "Did he tell you that?"   "He had no need.

I am well aware of my legal position.  " Torry could only admire Trish's
dignity and composure.  She had never once raised her voice, and in this
discussion had shown a maturity which Torry had not known that she possessed.
She was compelled to admit how much Trish had changed since knowing Alien
Marriott--and for the better.  As simply as Trish, she said,

"No, I shall not tell Gerard, unless circumstances insist.  But I still wish
that you would reconsider."  It was plain by the expression on Trish's face
that she had no intention of doing any such thing.  She said in a low voice,

"You must know that I have never enjoyed deceiving you.  My deception was
undertaken solely in order to protect Alien.

From what he has said he is alone in the world, and I believe he values his
employment here, although we  have never discussed that or anything to do
with you, Gerard or Schuyler's.  I d^ ^ow that for Gerard to dismiss him
would mean that ht^ght have trouble finding another position.  For him to go
voluntarily would be quite another thing.  " Yes, Trish had chan^e,^ Torry
shook her head regretfully and rose to leave.  " Very well.  You are of age,
i^ ^ pan only trust that when you are with him you will ^^rcise the good
sense which I am sure you possess.  Now, ^ ^ pm this behind us.  Mr Marriott
will, as you know^ ^ng with us and the Fosters this evening, and nothing
personal must be allowed to cast a shadow on the gathering.  " Trish bowed
her heqj.  and said,

"Good manners alone will see us through, Pi^ san-e.  And Aunt Torry--as I used
to call you--I do not it^ any the less of you for raising this matter with
me, an<j i hope that you will think no less of me and trust in my tpod
sense."

"My dear," exclaimey Torry, coming over to Trish and kissing her on the
cheek.   q won't allow this to come between us.   Now let us ^o down together
and wait in the drawing room for Gerald and the others as though we had not a
care in the world.   And remember, I am now deceiving Gerard, too!   " Jordan
Foster and hfc wife were in the drawing room with their hosts when AJlen
walked in that evening.   He tried not to look at Tris^i too much, since not
to look at her at all might be as betraying as doing the other thing!   Torry
gave him a brief smile; Gerard merely said to the Fosters,

"You remember me introducing my secretary, Mr Mamott, to you the otr^r
evening, I'm sure."

"Of course," said Jordan Foster, 'the fortunate successor to Mr Hall who
later made such a good fist of keeping the minutes at the last mee^g of the
consortium.   "

 Alien bowed his head and said meekly,

"I was merely doing my duty, sir, but thank you all the same."  Gerard,
exasperated as usual by Alien's humility, said brusquely to Foster,

"Paying Marriott a compliment is like throwing water into the Thames it sinks
without trace.  I have to say that, good though Hall was, Marriott surpasses
him by far.  He has an eye like a hawk for anything dubious in a document or
a report, and with his mathematical skill ought to have ended up as an
accountant or treasurer he could probably have commanded a fortune."  To say
that his hearers were astounded when Gerard came out with this oddly worded
compliment would be to understate matters.  The person most surprised was
Alien himself.  For once he lost his perfect control to the extent of
flushing slightly.  The most delighted person in the room, however, was
Trish.  Did this bode well for the future?

Might not Gerard withdraw his opposition to Alien's having anything to do
with her if he really valued him highly?  Jordan Foster said jovially,

"I think that's the first time I've heard you be so enthusiastic about
anyone, Schuyler.  You should be flattered, young man."  Alien gave him the
cool smile which Trish knew so well.  "Oh, I am," he said.  "Immensely
flattered."  He tried to avoid Gerard's eye and wondered what it had cost his
cousin to praise him.  Instead he saw Tony's eye on him with an expression on
her face so speculative that he wondered at it.  Now what was all that about?
Fortunately for his own composure the butler arrived at that moment to
inform them that dinner was served, and he duly took his place beside Trish
at the end of the procession into the dining room.  Mrs Foster was seated
next to him, and while the first course of asparagus soup was being  served
asked him how long he had been working for Sir Gerard.  "About three months
as his secretary," he told her.  "Before that I worked in Schuyler's offices
first in New York and then in London."

"Thought you was a Yankee when I first heard your voice.   Come from the
East Coast, do you?"   asked Jordan, Foster before he picked up his soup
spoon.

"Yes, sir."  Which was all the information which Alien was prepared to offer
to him.  "Thought so.  Was you ever at university there?"  There was no help
for it, and with Gerard listening he was compelled to tell the truth.  "I was
fortunate enough to go to Yale."

 "No surprise to me.

Can always tell a university man.  " Alien was not sure whether this was a
compliment or not.  He thought it odd that Foster was being gracious to
him--but possibly that was the consequence of Gerard's unexpected praise.  He
wished most sincerely that the spotlight would move away from him, which a
few minutes later it did.  One thought struck him which brought a small smile
to his face.  He had kept his answers short to conceal his own past and his
own secrets.  How many of those around the table had secrets to hide besides
himself and Trish?  He knew that Gerard was concealing the fact that they
were cousins, and he was sure that he had other secrets to hide.  And Jordan
Foster--what was he concealing behind his mask of clumsy joviality?  There
had been a certain something in Foster's coarse voice when asking about his
past which made Alien uneasy.  Why should he care about the origins of a
humble secretary?  Unless, perhaps, he had notions of bribing him away from
Gerard--which with a man of Foster's kidney was always a possibility.

 He became aware that Mrs Foster was speaking to him again.  "Tell me, Mr
Marriott, as an American living in England, have you discovered the secret
behind the beautiful complexions of English girls?  Miss Courtney, now, has
the most exquisite colouring, and as far as I can tell is wearing no
artificial aids--as I am sure you must have observed."  Yes, Alien had
observed.  Given implicit permission by Mrs Foster to look at Trish, he
smiled at her across the table before saying to Mrs Foster, his face as grave
as ever again,

"It's the rain."

"Oh, my, the rain, Mr Marriott!  However do you make that out?"

"Well, in the States we have a lot of sun, but here in England the sun is in
short supply and, as Shakespeare once said,

"The rain it raineth every day," so that the complexions of English girls are
always fed and watered by it, whereas our girls are not so lucky--except in
some of the Eastern States--and have to submit to their skins being baked by
the sun.  " " Oh, my, Mr Marriott, aren't you clever!  Mr Foster, I'll have
you know that Mr Marriott is as clever as Sir Gerard said he was.

He knows all about English girls' complexions.  " Gerard looked up from his
place at the head of the table.  " Does he, indeed!  Is that what you do on
your day off, Marriott?  Inspect girls' complexions?  " " Among other
things," returned Alien smoothly, trying to avoid Trish's eyes again.  Her
amusement was visible.  Later he was to tell her that Mrs Foster had asked
him to admire Miss Courtney's perfect complexion.

"She said that she was sure that you were using no artificial aids, and I was
compelled to agree with her."  Trish would give a little laugh.

"I'll have you know that  you were both wrong.  My cheeks were so flushed
this evening that I used a little papier poudre to cool them down."  But at
the time she simply offered him her enchanting smile, saying,

"I'm sure that Mr Marriott always researches any problem most carefully,
however slight the problem might be."  Alien bowed his head in response.  "I
always try to be helpful.  Miss Courtney."  Mrs Foster, who had decided that
she liked this young man who seemed to combine the best characteristics of
the European as well as the American male, said enthusiastically,

"Oh, I'm just so sure you do.  Tell me, Mr Marriott, what is it you like most
about English girls--or perhaps you find that they don't compare well with
American ones."  Alien scarcely knew whether to laugh or to cry.  He had come
to this dinner party determined to be as self-effacing as possible.  But
instead the rotten luck of the draw had landed him next to a woman who was
determined to make him the centre of attention by asking him the kind of
question which ensured that he could not remain anonymous.  "Oh, they are
both beyond compare," he told her, 'but in quite different ways.  English
girls are shy while American girls are more forthcoming.  I find the
difference most intriguing--or I probably would if my duties left me much
time to examine them at length.  " Jordan Foster gave a dry laugh.  " You
should have been a diplomat, Marriott.  Leave the lad alone.  Mother, you've
teased him quite enough.  This wine we're drinking is pretty good, Schuyler.
Had it specially imported, did you?  " " Yes.  Tom Moidore recommended me to
a vineyard near Bordeaux.  He's by way of being a connoisseur.  " " And now
you're by way of being one yourself.  You never do things by half, do you,
Schuyler?  " Alien thought that Gerard was not best pleased with this
compliment, and although this was the second time in as  many weeks in which
he had entertained the Fosters to dinner he gained the impression that his
cousin did not care much for their company.  He was probably cultivating it
because it was good for Schuyler's rather than because he liked them.  Foster
later re-opened the two main subjects for discussion these days: the
possibility of a Transvaal war and the vexed question as to whether the
twentieth century began on the first day of January, 1900.  " Big mistake if
the Government decides on war," he offered.  " The British ought to take a
leaf out of our book, eh, Schuyler, and let the Boers have their democratic
freedoms.  I have the feeling that the great British Army might meet its
match in a pack of Boer farmers running around the countryside, even if they
don't have much in the way of arms or artillery.  None of this bodes well for
the next century, I must say.  "

Gerard said, a trifle wearily,

"Oh, as for the next century; I suppose it will take care of itself--whatever
date we choose to begin it on.

Marriott, here, would probably tell you what he told me--that all dates are
imaginary and since we make them up ourselves it's up to us to decide when
the twentieth century starts, not some imaginary rule.  I have to say that I
agree with him.  " Poster stared at Alien, who tried to look modest whilst
eating his Nesselrode pudding.  " Got an original mind, has he?  I suppose
that's one way of looking at it--particularly since he's a bit of a time and
date man himself.  " This last statement had Gerard looking interested, and
Alien trying not to.  Gerard raised his thick black brows at Foster, who
added hastily,

"Him being your secretary must mean that he's into dates, eh?  Most important
in our business."  Now why should he think that Foster had been lying when he
offered that explanation?  Alien ate his pudding carefully and slowly, at
the rate which the late great British Prime Minister WE.  Gladstone had
recommended as being good for the digestion--each mouthful being chewed
thirty times in a minute.  His mind was working nearly as busily as his
teeth.  Could Foster have made that remark because he knew of his connection
with Mr Nance and horology?  If so, how did he know of it--who could
conceivably have told him?  Had he made the remark unthinkingly?  Or had it
been a slip of the tongue?  Or had he made it deliberately?  If it were any
of these things, what precisely did any of them signify?  He had offered
Gerard an explanation which could hold water, but the very speed with which
he had made it was in itself suspicious.  If it were Foster who was having
him followed then he would, of course, know not only of Mr Nance and his
shop, but also of his secret meetings with Trish.

Furthermore, the only reason he could think of to explain such surveillance
was that Foster had something to do with what he suspected had been criminal
interference in Schuyler's interests and thought that he.  Alien, might
possibly discover how they had been managed if he were half as clever as
Gerard had been claiming.  Was it conceivably possible that he was somehow
connected with Robert Hall, whom he had found examining his papers and who
had suborned Gerard's butler to keep an eye on him?  Was it also possible
that Foster was responsible for the unpleasant rum ours about Gerard of which
Tom Moidore had spoken?

All of this, he thought, eating cheese and biscuits as the meal ended and
drinking rather more wine than usual, required a great leap in logic on the
basis of what might conceivably be an innocent remark whose meaning he had
misunderstood.  Why did he think he hadn't--other than the famous  Schuyler
intuition, which he might have inherited through his mother?

Finally there was another possibility to consider.  Did Gerard mistrust
Jordan Foster?  And what was he going to do about all these suspicions?

If there were anything he could usefully do, that was!  While he was musing
dinner ended and the ladies were leaving them to their port.

Alien remained behind.  He would much rather have gone with them to have a
further opportunity to sit opposite to Trish rather than fuddle himself with
a drink which he did not care for.  Jordan Foster apparently had no such
qualms about drinking.  He never passed the decanter on when it reached him
until he had recharged his glass.  His conversation grew ever more
confidential and ever more coarse.  He spoke brutally and rudely of the men
whom he and Gerard had met during the development of the Central Line and the
creation of the new consortium.

"Pretty filly, your Miss Courtney," he finally offered.

"Got m'son Ellsworth coming over shortly--would like him to take a look at
her.  Gather there's money there.  Mother said that the rumour was that young
Norman had offered for her and been refused.  Good thing that.  It's highly
likely such a high-stepping lass might prefer a red-blooded American with
some go in him--such as my Ellsworth--to one of your effete English
gentlemen.  Let's drink to that, eh?"  And he winked first at Alien and then
at Gerard.  On hearing this sneering reference to Trish, Alien felt his
self-control on a knife-edge.  He would have liked to ram Foster's words down
his throat.  Instead, quite involuntarily, his hand tightened around his
glass of port with such force that it shattered--sending a red stain like
blood spilling across the damask cloth.  "Your pardon, sir," he exclaimed to
Gerard.

"Accidents will happen," he said hastily.  "Not used to port, I take it,
Marriott."

"Not really.  I don't drink often and wasn't aware how much it was beginning
to affect me," returned Alien, lying with as much tact as he could muster,
keenly aware that Foster was staring quizzically at him.

He was suddenly sure that Foster had spoken sligh tingly of Trish quite
deliberately in an attempt to get some reaction from him, and he silently
cursed his temporary loss of control.  On the other hand if Foster had
taunted him deliberately then it was further proof that he knew of his secret
meetings with Trish, and, more importantly, it was evidence that he had set a
spy on him.  But to what end?  Thinking about that could wait.  The butler,
with a scornful stare at Alien, set one of the footmen to trying to repair
the damage to the cloth.

Another fetched a fresh glass for him and poured him more port, which he
drank in order not to betray how much Foster's light words had affected him.

"I should go easy on the port," Gerard advised him, 'if you aren't used to
drinking.  " Alien set his glass down.  It was true that he didn't drink
often, even though he had discovered long ago that he had a hard head, but
the dreadful consequences of his father's self-indulgence were always with
him as a warning not to overdo things.

Nevertheless he smiled somewhat blearily at Gerard and Foster as though the
drink had got to him, and said, equally blearily,

"I have had a hard day, and with your permission.  Sir Gerard and Mr Foster,
I would like to retire."

 "Permission granted," said Gerard brusquely.

"The last thing I want in the morning is a secretary with a bad head."

Relieved, Alien walked through the drawing room, bowing to all the ladies
before he left them.  "What a charming young man," gushed Mrs Foster, once
he had gone.  "Handsome, too, don't you think?"  she asked, appealing to
Trish for support.  "Oh, yes," agreed Trish trying not to look at Torry.
Later she was to agree with Alien that the dinner had been an exercise in
avoidance: not saying what one really thought and never looking in certain
directions in case one betrayed that interesting fact!  "Quite handsome and
charming, too, if you like the quiet sort."

"Ah, but when he does speak he's worth listening to," said Mrs Foster,
revealing to both her hearers that she was not so silly as her appearance and
manner might suggest.  Torry remarked on this to Gerard when they were at
last alone together in their bedroom.  Gerard smiled.

"Not surprising," he said.  "No one who was a successful madam in a brothel
in a mining camp could possibly be a fool."

"Agreed," said Torry, 'and as a rider to that, no one who is as circumspect
in everything he says and does as Alien Marriott is could possibly be a fool,
either.   " " No need for me to agree to that," returned Gerard, who was now
safely in bed, 'and for God's sake hurry up, my dear; the only thing which
can wash away the effects of an evening with Jordan Foster is having you
beside me.   You might add to your verdict on Master Marriott that he's also
as artful as a wagon-load of monkeys but not as noisy.   I'm damned certain
that he wasn't drunk tonight, although he wanted us to think that."
"Really?"   queried Torry as she finally ended up in Gerard's arms, even
though she knew perfectly well exactly how artful Alien was and Trish, too.
"Really," repeated Gerard and put out the light.

Chapter Ten I he dinner with the Fosters was one of the few occasions when
Alien and Trish had been able to meet publicly.  To meet privately grew ever
more difficult.  On the other hand they had begun to enjoy a lively
correspondence with one another.  Trish, being romantically-minded, thought
that it was like living in a novel by Samuel Richardson, or one of the other
eighteenth-century writers, when lovers seemed to have endless time with
nothing to do but write to one another.  Alien received her thoughts on the
Fosters by third post the next day: Miss Trish Courtney to Mr Alien Marriott.
What a comic dinner party that was last night!  When the ladies retired Mrs
Foster did nothing but sing your praises.  This was more than a little
embarrassing for me because I'm sorry to have to tell you that somehow Torry
has found out that we have been meeting secretly.  She asked me point-blank
if we were and I could not lie to her.  The remarkable thing is that although
she advised me to think carefully about what I was doing, and was a little
worried about your intentions, she says that for the time being she will not
 tell Gerard!  She also suggested that we inform him that we have been
meeting and throw ourselves on his mercy, but I pointed out to her that since
he had expressly forbidden you to see me this might mean that he would
dismiss you for disobeying him.  Fortunately she did not notice--or I don't
think that she did--that I was unable to eat very much.  Between the
pleasures of loving you and the pains of worrying about our distressful
situation I seem to have quite lost my appetite again.  You didn't seem very
hungry, either.  Until we exchange glances again--for that is all we can
exchange--I remain, Your loving Trish.

Alien to Trish: My darling heart, the only thing that I'm hungry for is you!
Things were a bit sticky for me when the ladies had gone.  Jordan Foster is
not a good advertisement for the charms of the American man, and between
embarrassment over that, and worries that I might say or do the wrong thing,
I fled the dining room pleading tiredness and an inability to drink port
without it having a bad effect on me.  I know that this was cowardly, but
there 'are limits to what a chap can take--as Harry Norman would say--and
this chap has taken quite a lot lately.  I was sorry to learn that Lady
Schuyler has found us out.

Fortunately Sir Gerard complained to me the other day that she has a soft
spot for me, and I can only hope that somehow or other we shall work our way
out of our present impasse before she feels it necessary to tell Sir Gerard
about us.

Mr Nance says that he misses your cheerful voice as well as your talent for
washing the dinner and tea pots.  I have to say that these are not the things
which I miss when I am not with you in Piccadilly--or anywhere else for that
matter.  My darling, it grows harder and harder for me to be away from you--I
never thought that I would find someone who seems like the other half of
myself.  Do be careful when you are crossing the road.  When you all drive
off in Sir G's motor car I pray to the god of roads--whoever he might
be--that you don't have a horrible accident.  For the present my love goes
with you.

Your own Alien.  Trish to Alien.  Dearest Alien, How I long for the summer to
end--something which I never thought that I would do--but at least when the
season is over and we retire to Padworth I may see a little more of you, even
though we shall have lost our happy days together in Mr Nance's shop.  None
of the men whom I am meeting attracts me in the slightest, so you are not to
torture yourself by thinking that I am flirting with them in your absence.
On the contrary, I seem to have gained a reputation as a cold fish, and even
Harry has given up trying to corner me in remote parts of the ballroom.

One of the things which I miss most is watching you at the work-bench, and
another is our happy talks when we went out together, to say nothing of going
to see Marie Lloyd--Covent Garden is not a patch on her!  As for our day at
Greenwich, everything about it is written on my heart.  I have not even had
the pleasure of learning how you went on when you gave your paper to the
British Horological Institute.  I know how hard you worked at getting it just
right, and though I wouldn't have understood a word of it--or even been
allowed to be part of the audience--I should have loved to hear you give it.
Do tell me what happened--I'm sure that it must have been a success.  I never
thought that loving someone and not being able to be with him in all the ways
which matter would be painful.  Don't forget me, I beg of you, while you are
so busy working for Gerard.  He called you a treasure the other day, when
talking to Terry and me, but added that you are very deep.  I'm not sure
whether that was meant as praise.

When we can talk to one another again you must tell me.  Until then I am your
own Trish.  Give my love to Mr Nance and tell him I am longing to see him
again soon.  I shall have to think up an excuse to visit his shop.  Lucy
writes that she will be out of town until the autumn, so we shall be lost to
one another for some time yet.  All my love, my own heart.  The days are long
without you.  I know you said when we were in Greenwich Park that you wished
us to marry, but that until you could afford to keep me properly we must
wait, since you do not want to be accused of fortune-hunting.  Dear Alien,
you must know that I would willingly marry you with or without my fortune,
but I also know that I must respect your wishes, even though obeying them is
so painful.

Goodbye for the present, my love.  Trish.  Alien to Trish I, too, long for
our separation to be over, and for that happy day to arrive when I shall be
able to tell you in person how much I love you.  Until then we are confined
to words on paper, which are not the same thing at all.  I burn with jealousy
when you leave for yet another grand ball because I cannot bear to think of
you on the dance floor in the arms of another man.  Mr Nance sends you his
best wishes and begs us both to be patient, for he is sure that everything
will come right for us in the end.  I must not complain overmuch because I
can still see you every day-- tantalising though that is.  You asked me in
your last letter how I fared when I read my paper to the British Horological
Institute on Tuesday.  I was in a rare old state of nerves before I gave it.
Mr Nance kept offering me encouragement in the cab all the way to
Clerkenwell, where the Institute meets in the upstairs room of a public
house.  He would have fed me brandy when I got there if I had let him!  The
first shock was that Lord Grimthorpe, our President, was going to be the
chairman.  He is a very fierce old man with a dreadful reputation for being
rude to everyone--even the Prince of Wales if he speaks out of line!  The
original chairman for this meeting had fallen ill and he had taken his
place--he doesn't always attend the meetings.  Since he dislikes clocks being
powered by electricity I was somewhat fearful as to how he would react to my
paper, which is enthusiastic about it.  He is famous as the man who designed
and built Big Ben.  Fortunately, years ago, he was a friend of Charles
Babbage, who built the difference engine which I suggested might be revived
and powered, by electricity, so he was willing to give me a hearing, and in
the end my paper was received with great enthusiasm,  even though Lord
Grimthorpe snorted at me that I had 'a touch of the H.  G.  Wells," which was
not intended as a compliment!  One thing we were agreed on, and that is in
disliking this ridiculous notion that the coming of the new century will
solve everything.  I thought of you when he was blustering away about it.  A
number of well- known figures came up to me afterwards to discuss some of my
ideas, and I have the feeling that something important might yet happen which
would eventually enable us to solve our problems over marriage.  Mr Nance was
fit to burst, particularly when someone in congratulating me remarked on how
much I must owe to him, which is nothing less than the truth, and instead of
letting him buy me brandy before the paper I plied him with whisky after it!
The only thing missing was your presence, if not at the meeting, then
afterwards.  My life is only half lived when you are not with me--you give it
point and purpose.  I never thought that I would ever meet anyone who would
share my enthusiasms, and now that I have I can't wait for you to be with me
always.  Adieu, my own dear love.  You also share my heart and mind, and I
hope that, one day, you will share more than that.  Until then I am ever your
own Alien.  The correspondence, once begun, was continued with great
enthusiasm on both sides.  Trish kept Alien's letters in a pretty lacquered
Japanese box which her mother had given her when she was a girl, and Alien
put Trish's in a small locked safe which he kept in his room, where he hid
anything which he did not wish a spy to find.  He always carried the last one
she'd sent him in the inside breast pocket of his jacket and thought of it
as a talisman, or the equivalent of the favours which knights of old were
given by their beloved.  He was carrying it when he visited Mr Nance, shortly
before Gerard was giving the dinner party which was to be the crown of his
season.  He had invited the Prince and Princess of Wales, their immediate
entourage and several important friends to visit Park Lane.  Their Royal
Highnesses' agreement to attend was enough to silence the rum ours of which
Tom Moidore had spoken.  For Alien this had created a great deal of work, as
it had for Gerard's whole household.  The only person taking everything in
his stride was Gerard himself.

"You look tired," Mr Nance told Alien when he visited his shop.  "Sit down
and have a cup of tea before you try to do anything.

Sir Gerard driving you hard, is he?  " " No harder than he drives himself.  "
He didn't tell Mr Nance that seeing Trish every day without being able to do
more than smile in her direction was taking its toll of him.  " I have some
news for you from my dubious friend," Mr Nance said.  " He tells me that the
word is that you are being watched, by an ex-rozzer called Norris.  He's not
exactly sure who is employing him, but rumour says that it's a Yankee bigwig.
My informant isn't sure which Yankee bigwig because he's been given two
possible names.  One is that of Jordan Foster and the other is your employer.
" " By "rozzer" you mean policeman, I suppose," was Alien's dry--and
only--comment.  Mr Nance nodded.  " London slang," he said briefly.  Alien
was thinking hard about the significance of what Mr Nance had told him.
Could it possibly be that this man Norris was watching him for both Foster
and Gerard?  No wonder he felt the back of his neck prickle every time he
walked London's streets!

"Helpful?"  enquired Mr Nance, brief again.

 "In the sense that it confirms what I feared, yes.  On the other hand I've
been confronted with a bit of a puzzle."

"About your employer possibly having you followed?"   "Yes.   I'm not
surprised about Foster, though.   He said something at a recent dinner party
which led me to believe that he knew more about me than he ought to if all
that he knew of me was legitimately learned."   "Well put," said Mr Nance,
smiling.

"I'll tell my friend to carry on keeping his ears and eyes open for you."
"How can I ever thank you enough for all that you have done for me?"  said
Alien fervently.  "I have done very little, alas, for you will not allow me
to do more," was Mr Nance's answer to that.  "You have already done more for
me than you know," said Alien quietly.  It was Mr Nance who had restored his
confidence and belief in himself from the very first moment he had walked
into his shop.  It was worrying to think that Gerard might be having him
watched, too.  Was he doing so in collusion with Foster, or were they each
quite unaware of the other's activities?  And, if they were, what did that
tell him about Norris-and Gerard?  "By the way, a letter arrived for you
yesterday.  I think it is from Rothschild's."  Alien had given Mr Nance's
address to Rothschild's, preferring any mail from them not to go to Park
Lane.  The letter was brief: it offered Mr Alien Marriott a position with
them which would pay him double what he was getting from Gerard--an offer
which was a huge advance on their previous one.  They understood that he had
given a paper to the British Horological Institute and complimented him on
that.  He put it down thoughtfully.  His debt of gratitude to Gerard had been
paid.  His mother's remarriage had freed him.  To accept Rothschild's
enhanced offer would enable him to marry Trish without the accusation of
fortune- hunting being levelled at him.  Why, then, was he hesitating?  He
did not need to ask himself twice.  It was the unfinished business at
Schuyler's which was holding him back.  What Mr Nance had just told him
proved that he was somehow connected with it after a fashion which he did not
completely understand.  Until that was cleared up he could not leave.  He was
about to tell Mr Nance of the offer, and why he could not immediately accept
it, when the shop doorbell rang and Mr Nance left him to serve his customer.
Only it was not a customer.  Mr Nance returned almost immediately, followed
by an ill-dressed man who looked about him with the air of one who always
sizes up his surroundings in case he has to take leave of them suddenly.  Mr
Nance said,

"This is a messenger from the friend of whom I have just spoken.  I think
that you should hear what he has to say."  The man nodded, sucked his stained
teeth, and said, in a Cockney accent so thick that Alien could barely
understand it,

"Aye, last night as ever was he was stopped by a couple of fellers and
knocked about something cruel.  He was told to leave off busybodying about
who was after a young chap who was working for Schuyler's, it was no business
of his'n, and if he didn't do as he was told it would be the worse for him.
He wanted to warn you and the young chap you was helping--' he nodded at Mr
Nance '--to let well alone, or you'd be for it as well."

 "Max," said Mr Nance agitatedly.

"You're speaking of Max Stein.  Is he badly hurt?"  The man nodded agreement.
"Took him to hospital, I did.  He'll live, but he's lost most of his teeth,
has two black eyes and a broken arm.  Insides damaged, most like."

He looked closely at Alien.  "Is this the young feller?  Looks harmless
enough to me."  Mr Nance and Alien stared at one another.  Alien said,

"If I'd known that this was likely to happen I would never have told you
about being followed and allowed you to put your friend in danger."

"Aye, you're being follered all right," grunted the man, 'by a rozzer thrown
out of the force for being bent.   Won't say his name.

Tain't safe.  Bye-bye, gents, keep your noses clean, and p'raps they'll let
you alone.  " He put a large and dirty forefinger by his own nose and ambled
out of the workroom.  " He means Morris," said Mr Nance.

"That's the ex- policeman Max told me about.  And who did he mean by " they"?

What in the world have you become involved in, Alien?  " " I believe that
Schuyler's is being defrauded on a large scale.  The man behind it must be
very powerful if he can attack someone whom you hinted was a big man in the
criminal underworld.  I can hardly credit Sir Gerard with organising this
it's not his style at all even if Norris is working for him as well as the
mystery man behind this brutal attack.  What I do know is that you must not
ask any more questions of anyone about me or my doings I should never forgive
myself if I put you in real danger.  "

Mr Nance opened his mouth to argue with him, to say that he would not be
deterred even by such threats as these, but he closed it again when he saw
Alien's face change.  Again, although he did not know it.

Alien's expression, when he was roused or angered, was formidable.  He looked
exactly like his cousin Gerard, whom he otherwise barely resembled.  It
served to put Mr Nance off his stroke.

"Well, yes," he assented, much against his will.  Alien smiled, and became
the man whom Mr Nance had always known: the cheerful, quiet man who never
raised his voice or used his will to dominate others.  "Good.  Then that's
understood," he said.  "Now let us talk of more pleasant things.  Did I tell
you that Sir Gerard is about to entertain the Prince of Wales to dinner?"  Mr
Nance shook his head.  "No and shall you be present at the dinner?"

"Oh, no.  But I and the rest of the senior staff, including the chef will be
presented to him before the dinner.  Sir Gerard says that when the Prince
visits anyone he is always insistent that those who work hard to ensure his
pleasure are thanked by him personally.  It is one reason why he is popular."
"Unlike the Queen," commented Mr Nance, 'who hides herself, away at Windsor
and is seldom seen by her people.  "

"Exactly.  Sir Gerard's great friend.  Lord Moidore, who has known the Prince
since they were young men together, says that he has the rare talent of
knowing how to charm people when he meets them unlike his late father, the
Prince Consort, who, although clever, was awkward with people.  He says that
the Prince of Wales would have made a great diplomat if only his mother had
allowed him the opportunity to be one.

Sir Gerard agrees with him.  " Alien had seldom spoken before of the great
men who were Gerard's friends and frequented his Park Lane home.

"And what does Mr Alien Marriott think of Sir Gerard Schuyler or of Lord
Moidore, for that matter?"  asked Mr Nance.  He had never questioned Alien
about his Park Lane life, but the disturbing events of the day had made him
curious.  If Alien was privately a little shy about discussing his cousin
with someone who did not know of the relationship no one would have guessed
it.  "Hard-working, clever and ruthless would describe both of them.  Sir
Gerard never expects of me more than he is  prepared to give of himself.
Lord Moidore is smoother and more civilised, but they are great friends
precisely because, at bottom, they are like one another."  If Mr Nance
thought, as he did, that Alien displayed some of the attributes of his
employer and his employer's friend, he kept that thought to himself.  The
shop bell ringing ended their conversation.  Mr Nance left to answer it and
Alien slipped on his canvas apron and started work on a small watch, not
unlike the one which Trish had bought on the day she had found him in the
shop.  When Alien had told Mr Nance how hard those who entertained the Prince
of Wales had to work he had spoken no less than the truth.  "Everything is
being washed, polished and rearranged to within an inch of its life,"

was Trish's somewhat disrespectful comment to Alien in one other letters to
him.  "And I hope that includes you.  You mustn't look shabby when you are
presented."  He wasn't going to, for Gerard insisted on Alien having a new
evening suit in which to be presented to the Prince.  "Your current one would
shame a counter-jumper in Selfridge's; it has grown quite threadbare," was
his unkind comment one morning, 'and I'm not having the Prince think that I
am paying you starvation wages.  I shall count it as a legitimate expense so
you may have it put on my bill at Simpson's.  " " Do I have to be presented?
"

Alien asked in his most humble tones--so humble that Gerard knew that he was
being roasted again.  "Well, since I understand that even the sous-chef is to
be favoured, you can hardly be left out.  And after all, you are my cousin."
"But the Prince doesn't know that--unless you are prepared to make a grand
gesture and publicly admit the relationship to him after tacitly denying it
to everyone else for the last nine years.  That would make a talking point
for your staff and no mistake!"

"Marriott," enunciated Gerard, in the voice of someone who would brook no
nonsense from anyone, 'there are times when I wonder why I put up with you.
I never had to endure this kind of insolence from Hall.   " " A different
kind of insolence, perhaps?   " queried Alien.   " I dare swear that you put
up with me because you'd be hard put to find anyone who could do my job half
as well.   Think of it as the price you pay for that!   " Gerard drew a deep
breath, glared at him, and then began to laugh.   " Words fail me," he came
out with at last.   " Try" Aw, shucks," suggested Alien.   "It's a good old
Yankee saying which seems to fit the bill."   "That will be all, Marriott,"
bellowed Gerard.   "Get out of my sight and carry on with the task of seeing
that the Prince's visit goes off without a hitch.   I might even give you a
rise if it does."   Laughing to himself as he retired to consult with the
butler.   Alien suddenly realised that not only had his fear of Gerard
disappeared, but the dislike in which he had held him had vanished as well.
More than that, he had succeeded in talking to his cousin as though they were
equals and had got away with it again!   He was still smiling when he reached
the entrance hall in time to meet Trish, who was just leaving the drawing
room.   "Oh, Mr Marriott," she exclaimed, for the benefit of any
eavesdroppers.   "How pleasant to meet you!   I suppose that you are busy
overseeing all the arrangements for the Prince of Wales's visit."   Then, in
a lower voice, "What is amusing you.   Alien?"   "Sir Gerard," he told her,
'has just insisted on buying me  a new evening suit in which to be presented
to the Prince, who will doubtless have the opportunity of admiring it for at
least three minutes.   He considered my previous one would bring shame on the
noble house of Schuyler and result in his being despatched at the double to
Tower Hill and execution.   " Trish could not help herself.   On hearing this
she gave way to a disgraceful fit of the choking giggles which was witnessed
by Timson, who had ghosted into the hall while they were speaking.   " Might
I fetch you a glass of water.   Miss Courtney?   " Before she could answer
him, he turned his solemn face towards Alien in order to say,

"A word to the wise, Mr Marriott.  If I might take the liberty of advising
you, you really ought to be more careful when you address Miss Courtney in
public lest you reveal more than you intend to.  What you might say to her in
private, of course, would be quite a different thing."  Like his cousin a few
moments ago.  Alien began to laugh.  He stopped in order to ask,

"Have you any more useful tips to offer me, Timson?  I am always open to
advice from anyone."  Timson thought for a moment.  "If you really mean that,
Mr Marriott, then I might suggest that you take great care of what you say in
the presence of the butler, although I believe that that piece of advice
might be, shall I say, redundant, since you take such great care to say
little to anyone--Miss Courtney excluded, of course."  He bowed in Trish's
direction.

"Always begging your pardon.  Miss Courtney, if I appear to take a liberty in
speaking of these matters.  I always act only with the best of intentions."
Alien said,

"I'm sure you do.  Forgive me if I leave you both.  I have a great deal to
do, and, as a dying Prime Minister once said, " so little time to do it.  "

His bow to Trish--and to Timson--was impeccable.  Trish, scarlet in the
face, muttered,

"I shall see you this evening at dinner, I believe, Mr Marriott," and
consented to be led by Timson back into the drawing room, where a jug of
water and glasses always stood on a side-table.

Alien watched them go, suddenly sure that he had at least one ally in Park
Lane, even if it were only Gerard's eccentric all-knowing valet.

His dear girl was also of the same opinion.  She allowed Timson to pour her a
glass of water and drank it down under his concerned eyes.  "Do you know
everything which goes on here, Timson?  Everyone's secrets?

And do you have any of your own?  " He bowed to her, a touch of admiration on
his face.  " Yes, to both questions.  Miss Courtney.  "

Before she could make any kind of answer he continued somewhat hesitantly,
his eyes wary,

"I think.  Miss Court- they, that you ought to advise Mr Marriott to watch
his back.  I think that it would come better from you than from me, even if
you do tell him that I passed on that piece of information."  Fascinated,
Trish stared at him.  "Could you not be more specific, Timson?"

"I fear not.   Miss Courtney--I have no real evidence to offer you.   Only
things circumstantial, as the lawyers say.   You should both be cautious."
Trish said,

"Have you spoken to Sir Gerard of this, Tim- son?"  He shook his head
solemnly.

"No, and for the same reason which I have offered you.  Sir Gerard is not a
man to whom to utter whim-whams and speak of cobwebs, as Mr Marriott well
knows.  By the by, you might pass on my compliments to him on the paper he
gave to the British Horological Institute.  I understand that it was very
well received."

 "And you haven't told Sir Gerard of that either, I suppose."

"Indeed not.   Miss Courtney.   Had Mr Marriott wished Sir Gerard to know of
it he would have informed him of it himself.   Will that be all?"   Trish's
answer was worthy of Alien himself.   "I think that has been quite enough,
Timson, don't you?"   "If you say so.   Miss Courtney, if you say so."   And
Tim- son ghosted out.   An old nurse of Trish's had often said to her when
she was too young to grasp its meaning,

"More know Tom Fool than Tom Fool knows."  Well, she and Alien certainly
seemed to be a pair of Tom Fools so far as Timson was concerned.  Fortunately
Timson seemed to be as close-mouthed as Alien--which was just as well, seeing
that he obviously knew even more than he had hinted at to them!  She would
certainly pass on his message to Alien that he was in some sort of danger.
Trish gave a little shiver--what sort of danger could Alien possibly be in?

Chapter Eleven Jvegardless of who might see them together, Trish ran
upstairs to the office where she knew that Alien would be working.  She
passed Gerard on the landing, but, careless of whether he saw her or not, she
opened the door and ran breathlessly in.  "Whoa!  Steady on!"

Alien exclaimed, as though he were gentling a frightened horse.

"Whatever is the matter?"  Timson," Trish gasped.  " He told me that you must
be careful--that you are in danger.  " Alien walked around the desk to take
her in his arms in order to calm her.  He also was careless of who might see
them.  " Just now?  Did he tell you that just now?  In those words?  " " Not
exactly.  He said that I ought to advise you to watch your back.  " " Did he,
indeed?  Did he give you any precise information as to why I should?  " Trish
stood back from Alien a little.

Under his comforting hands she realised that her shivering was taking on a
different nature--and here, in Park Lane, that would never do!

 "No, he said that he hadn't any.  " Only things circumstantial" were his
words.  Oh, and he knows about us and has said nothing to Gerard."

"Very good of him, I'm sure."

"You don't seem terribly surprised, Alien.   Are you in danger?"   Alien
hedged a little.   He did not wish to alarm her; nor did he wish to lie to
her.   "I might be, but I'm not really sure why."   "And what sort of an
answer is that?"   exclaimed Trish indignantly.   "If you are in danger then
I must know--I am not a child."   "Of course you aren't," returned Alien
forcefully, 'but, as Timson told you, it's all supposition and I have no real
notion of who might have it in for me, as they say over here.   " Now, after
the recent attack on Mr Nance's friend this was not quite the whole truth,
but it was true that Alien was not absolutely certain who was after him.   He
thought that it might be Jordan Foster--and Hall--but he had no proof.

"You will be careful, won't you?"  Trish said.  "For my sake, if not your
own."  This came out so feelingly that Alien put his arms around her again
and kissed her on the cheek as a reward for her loving kindness.  He dared do
no more in this place of danger, where they might be discovered together any
minute.  "I promise that I will try to be careful," he said, giving her
another chaste kiss, 'trust me, Trish.  " He kissed the dimple on her right
cheek and then released her before he was tempted to do more, or worse, or
better--it depended on how you looked at it.  " I'd better go," Trish said.
" I don't trust myself with you in here.  " This wrenched a laugh from Alien.
His eyes were still shining when she left him by the library door, although
by the time that Gerard walked in a few minutes later he had reverted to his
normally impassive self, with nothing about him to betray that he had been
cruelly tempted to surrender to the demands of love... What he did have to
surrender to were the demands of the preparations for the Prince's visit,
which was now almost upon them.  He visited Gerard's tailor and was measured
for a new suit, which was made for him with the utmost despatch as soon as
the tailors realised that he would be wearing it to be presented to the
Prince of Wales.  Alien had to confess when he finally tried it on that it
was a great improvement on his previous one.  He thanked Gerard, only to
receive a curt,

"Think nothing of it, Marriott Consider it to be the equivalent of a
footman's uniform--and I couldn't have you looking shabbier than they do!"
Well, whatever else he was--or wanted to be--Gerard was scarcely fit for the
corps diplomatique.  Alien thought with an inward grin.  He was far too
downright.  He wondered what Trish would think of him when she saw him in his
new magnificence--or Mr Nance, if he ever did.

Things seemed to have quietened down recently.  He knew that he was still
being watched, but whoever was responsible was doing no more than watch.
Perhaps they were waiting for the Prince's visit to be over!

This was an odd thought, and, although Alien did not know it, a true one.
Norris and Hall's employer wanted it safely out of the way before he brought
off his coup.  Alien had written to Rothschild's asking for time to think
their offer over, saying, truthfully, that he was having some problems in his
private life which he wished to solve before making a final decision.  They
wrote back agreeing to keep  the post open for the time being, but urging
him to make his mind up soon.  Even Torry, that model of an equable grand
lady, was exercised by the Prince's visit.  Everything, she had decreed, must
be perfect.

On the great day i.  itself she and Trish helped the housekeeper to fill the
house with flowers.  She and Trish also spent hours deciding what to wear.
"I shall be glad when tonight is over," she confessed to Trish when they were
drinking coffee together, after the flowers had been arranged to her
satisfaction.  I know that it's a great honour, but no one ever thinks of the
work which it entails.  Violet Kenilworth told me that the Prince's long
visits to them have nearly bankrupted them--fortunately for only one evening
we shan't have to worry about that!  " Violet, Lady Kenilworth, was a great
beauty who was the Prince's current mistress.  She would be present at the
dinner party since the Princess of Wales, with the perfect manners and tact
for which she was famous, turned a blind eye to her husband's liaisons.  This
was partly because it was what duty said a Princess of Wales ought to do and
partly because of her husband's great kindness to her.  She herself was noted
for her kindness and her consideration to those about her.  She was Torry
Schuyler's friend as Gerard was the Prince's.  " Tell Mr Marriott that he
need not worry about how the Prince will treat him when he is introduced,"
Torry said, being kind in her turn to Trish.

"The Prince is noted for his perfect behaviour in such situations as these."
"I don't think that Mr Marriott worries about things like that," said Trish,
'but of course one never really knows how other people will react, does one?
" Privately she thought that it seemed that Alien had more to worry about
than being presented to the heir to the throne.  " And you know that you've
no need to worry because you have already met him," Torry said, 'and since
unlike some past Royal Princes he does not prey on pretty girls.  Make sure
that you are dressed and ready to receive the Prince in good time.  He
usually arrives at such functions as these on the dot, but one never knows."

The afternoon was spent readying the dining table for Royalty and for
Gerard's other guests, who included all the great names who surrounded the
Prince.  Among others Tom Moidore would be there, and Jordan Foster.
"Unfortunately," Torry said, 'since Lord Fotheringham has had to cry off
through illness, Gerard has asked Lord Grimthorpe and his wife to make up the
numbers.  He was originally asked, but refused because he had a prior
engagement.  When Fotheringham withdrew, however, quite by chance Gerard
heard that Grimthorpe's engagement had fallen through, so he sent a messenger
post haste to secure him for tonight and keep our numbers correct.  "I'm not
sure whether I'm happy about his presence.  He really is the rudest man, but
he's also clever and many people think that his rudeness is amusing.  I
gather that the Prince does."  Torry was so involved in telling Trish of her
news that she failed to notice the expression of consternation which passed
over Trish's face when she was told that Lord Grim- thorpe would be a guest.

Whatever would Alien think?  And, more to the point, would Lord Grimthorpe
recognise him and say something tactless?  Goodness me, thought Trish
agitatedly, I must warn Alien.  Nevertheless it was some little time before
she could leave Torry without appearing rude herself, and when she did, it
was another gallop up to the office, praying that Gerard had not come back
from the City.  He hadn't, so for the second time in a few days Trish shot
into Alien's office, bursting with news.

 "Alien," she exclaimed.  "Have you heard?  Lord Fotheringham has cried off
through illness and Gerard has invited Lord Grimthorpe instead."  No, Alien
had not heard.  "You're sure?"

"Quite sure."   "Of all unfortunate things--and / can't cry off now that
Gerard's bought me this new suit.   I shall just have to hope that he doesn't
recognise me, or is talking to someone else when I'm presented to the Prince.
At least forewarned is forearmed."   They looked at one another and they
both began to laugh--ruefully.   "Oh, dear," Trish said.   "I never thought
that keeping secrets was such a difficult thing to do."   "You know what the
old rhyme says, " 0 what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to
deceive!   " " It really is depressing," Trish mourned, 'that so many of my
old nurse's sayings seem to have a great deal of truth in them.   I didn't
believe her at the time."   "That's because you're older and wiser," Alien
said, 'and now that you've grown up you have real secrets while small
children don't.   " " Does everyone have secrets?   " " Yes, but not all of
them are deep or serious.   Some are like Lady Kenilworth's.   " " Goodness,
what's hers?   " " That she dyes her hair with henna because she is turning
prematurely white.   " " Now how in the world do you know that?   " " Because
her lady's maid and one of our footmen are walking out together.   She told
him and he told the butler and I happened to overhear them.   " Trish thought
of Timson and how much he knew about them all, and came to the conclusion
that it was impossible  to keep secrets from one's servants even if one
could keep them from one's equals.   She told Alien so, and they had another
rueful laugh.

"I mustn't keep you from your work," Trish told him, and, leaning over his
desk, she kissed him on the nose, 'and I'm sure that Terry has much more for
me to do before she sends me off to be dressed to within an inch of my life!
" She was gone as rapidly as she had come, leaving Alien feeling as though
she had just given him a drink of water -in the desert which seeing her so
rarely had made of his life.  Torry Schuyler followed her own advice.  She
was ready and raring to go quite some time before she was due to join Gerard
to greet the Prince.  Careful not to destroy the perfection of her
appearance, she sat down and picked up the post which she had not had time to
open.  The first letter was addressed to her in a hand which she did not
recognise.

Curious, she opened it and turned to the end.  It was from Alicia Hurst--now
who could she be?  Even more curious!  She turned to the beginning and began
to read.  The more she read the more her eyes opened in surprise.  Reaching
the end, she sank back into her easy chair, a subtle smile on her lips and
spoke aloud.  "Well, I never!  I would never have thought that!"  Edward,
Prince of Wales, known as 'good old Teddy' to most of his subjects, who loved
his zest for life, of which his mother disapproved, 'arrived on the dot," as
Torry had put it.  All Gerard's other guests had arrived earlier, and were
seated in the drawing room waiting for him.  When one of the footmen came in
and informed them that the Prince and his suite were being received by Gerard
in the  entrance hall they dutifully rose to greet him.  Those members of
Gerard's staff who were to be presented to him, including Alien, were already
standing to one side.  True to form Lord Grimthorpe, a huge man with a
scarlet face, muttered to Lord Leominster,

"I do object to all this hocus pocus directed towards a man because he
happened to be born in the right bedroom!"  Leominster, not usually noted for
either his brain power or his on-the-spot repartee, muttered back,

"I wonder why you came if you feel like that!"  The entry of the Prince saved
him from one of Grim- thorpe's fabled verbal explosions.  While it was true
that the Prince was always conscious of his Royal birth, he nevertheless
possessed a warmth of manner and appearance that was in marked contrast to
the cold severity which his mother always displayed in public.  Now in his
fifty-eighth year, he had put on weight and a certain amount of gravitas, but
despite that he bore little personal resemblance to his long-dead father, the
Prince Consort--another count against him in the Queen's opinion.  To her he
was Bertie; to the disrespectful of society he was known behind his back as
Turn-turn, though no one dared call him that to his face.  He was talking
animatedly to Gerard when he entered, his beautiful wife beside him and two
members of his staff in the rear.

Most of the guests were already known to him and he nodded acknowledgement to
them as they were briefly presented to him as his companions at dinner.
Alien had seen the Prince before, but not at such close range, and he
acknowledged his future sovereign's strange charm.  While waiting he had
taken care to stand back in the shadow of Gerard's librarian, Dr Ryan, in the
hope that Lord Grirnthorpe might not see him.  What he did not notice was
that one of the Prince's staff had given a great start upon seeing him, and
had spent much of the time since he had arrived in gazing surreptitiously at
him.  "And now," said Gerard, 'at your request, sir, I have the honour to
present those senior members of my staff who have helped me to ready my home
in order to receive you.  "

Alien was to be the last to come forward, immediately behind Dr Ryan.

On hearing Gerard mention his name he bowed to their Royal Highnesses, aware
that Trish's loving eyes were on him--and hoped that Lord Grimthorpe's
knowing ones were not.  No such luck!  Gerard had scarcely had time to
introduce him to the Prince, nor the Prince time to acknowledge him, than
Lord Grimthorpe, his eyes, popping out of his head, exclaimed in his bull
roar of a voice,

"Why, if it ain't Electricity Marriott!  What's he doin' wastin' his time as
your secretary, Schuyler?"  Gerard could not conceal his surprise, nor the
Prince his amusement.  Grimthorpe, ever alert, registered both reactions.
"Never say you didn't know, Schuyler, that young Marriott here is such a whiz
in the horology line, both practically and theoretically, that he could name
his own price with any firm in England?  He's so highly thought of that he
gave a paper to the British Horological Institute.  On top of that," he
continued, his loud and domineering voice informing everyone in the room of
all Alien's secrets, 'a friend of mine at Rothschild's tells me that he is a
whiz at maths, too, and that they're willing to offer him a fortune if he'll
go to work for them.  " The Prince's interest was plain.  Alien bowed his
head after first looking the Prince straight in the eye and then offering his
beautiful Princess a slight rueful smile.  What he did not know was that,
although he valued his own mental and physical accomplishments, he had no
idea of the effects of that smile on women of any age.

He had, unknowingly, already won Torry Schuyler over with it, as well as
Lucy Chalfont, who could quite understand why Trish was attracted to him, and
it was a part of his attraction for Trish herself.  The Prince, intrigued by
the whole situation--for one of the penalties of being Royal was that it was
only rarely that anything amusing or untoward ever happened in his presence,
everything being blandly arranged beforehand--said genially to Gerard,

"Is this true, Schuyler?

Were you unaware of this young fellow's accomplishments?  " Before he could
answer, Torry, standing by Gerard's side in front of the Royal pair, breached
protocol by answering for Gerard, who she could see was, for once,
nonplussed, indeed shocked, by Grimthorpe's confident announcement and
Alien's silence in face of it.  " Of course my husband and I are aware of Mr
Marriott's remarkable background.  After all, is he not Sir Gerard's cousin,
the son of his father's sister, and therefore happy to assist him in his
business interests!  " This was shock number two for Gerard, who was quite
unaware of his sister's letter and its remarkable contents which had informed
his wife who Alien really was.  He could only conclude that his wife had been
mind-reading.  As for his conclusions about Alien--they were unspeakable!  "
As usual," he said, controlling himself with some difficulty, 'my wife has
the right of it.  I fear that Lord Grimthorpe has leaped to an incorrect
conclusion without checking his facts with me first."

"And not for the first time," said the Prince genially, not believing a word
of what he was saying, but willing to go along with Torry's statement, which
he was sure was a fiction.   Oh, no, not the bit about young Marriott being
Gerard's cousin--that was obviously true enough--but that his
accomplishments were known to Sir Gerard and his wife when they, equally
obviously, were not.   As for the young man himself, who had behaved with
perfect calm propriety whilst the storm had raged over his head, what a true
member of the Schuyler family he undoubtedly was, being both clever and
devious.   The Prince had not missed Alien's small smile at his wife.   The
Prince used his own smile on Grimthorpe, who was grinning with delight at the
brouhaha which he had started.

Rightly or wrongly he had made his mark on Gerard's dinner party.  Even the
footmen standing at the door were listening, their ears undoubtedly napping
at the prospect of passing on this delightful piece of gossip to the
servants' hall.  "A small apology, perhaps?"  the Prince continued, raising
an eyebrow at Grimthorpe.  Grimthorpe, never one to be at loss, bluffly
offered it.  "Sorry, Schuyler and Marriott, didn't quite know the form!"
Since, though he was a clever man, Grimthorpe was something of a licensed
buffoon--the Prince encouraged several among his entourage to be that--he
knew that he would still remain in favour, and at the least he had made that
damn'd Yankee Schuyler have to think twice.  Like the Prince, he didn't
believe that Gerard had known of his cousin and secretary's exploits.
Exploits!  Now there was a word he should have used, but too late now,
dammit.  No matter, the cat had successfully been thrown among the pigeons
and the air cleared for good and all!  The Schuylers should be grateful to
him.  Alien stood back when the Prince had finished speaking, but he was not
immediately given his conge for the small grey man behind the Prince now
leaned forward to whisper something urgently in his master's ear.  The Prince
nodded, and said quietly in order that only  those immediately about him
could hear him,

"Yes, but we must avoid further embarrassment for Mr Marriott.  Later, I
agree, later."  He looked at Alien, and said,

"I must speak to you again after dinner, sir.  Mr Beauchamp has informed me
of something which I would wish to raise with you and Sir Gerard privately.
Pray arrange to be in attendance in the dining room when all the gentlemen
except Sir Gerard, Lord Moidore and myself retire to join the ladies in the
drawing room after dinner.  " Before I release you, may I say that your
silence under provocation has been admirable.  I am given to understand from
what Mr Beauchamp has told me that your conduct on another occasion was more
than admirable, but we will speak of that later.  " Alien bowed and walked
away.  He knew to what the Prince was referring, and it was plain that all
his secrets but one--were secret no longer.  He wondered what Trish had made
of the revelation that he was Gerard's cousin, and what she would think of
them both for concealing that from her.  After that matters proceeded
normally.  There was a universal and polite pretence that nothing untoward
had occurred.  The only persons who were not surprised by Grim- thorpe's
revelations were Jordan Foster--who knew that Alien had at least one other
secret not disclosed--and Tom Moidore, who had not only long been suspicious
of Alien's seeming meekness but had also given him far more credit for high
intelligence than Gerard had done.  He was also of the opinion that Alien and
Trish were in love, but he had said nothing further of that to Gerard.  It
was none of his business and Trish Courtney was no fool.  Trish, for her
part, had sat listening to Grimthorpe's comic tirade, a smile on her face
until Torry had announced that Alien was Gerard's cousin, when it had
disappeared for he had never breathed a word of that to her!  Suddenly many
odd things about his relationship with Gerard were explained, but the most
extraordinary thing of all was why it had been concealed so carefully--and
why Gerard had been so cold and hard to someone who was his cousin!  She was
so distracted that she could scarcely eat her dinner.  She had been seated
next to Tom Moidore, with Jordan Foster opposite to her.  " You are not to
worry.  Miss Courtney," Tom told her, reading her white face correctly.  " Mr
Marriott is what Americans call a cool customer, and is well able to look
after himself.  Surprisingly enough I believe that you resemble him in that
yourself.  " Trish turned startled eyes on him.

"I'm not quite sure what you are trying to tell me, Lord Moidore."  He smiled
at her, and she could see the handsome young man he had once been long ago.
"Oh, I'm sure that you are.  I have reason to believe that there may be yet
another revelation to come concerning your young admirer, and that you have
knowledge of it."  Trish began to tremble.

"I

assure you that neither of us have ever done anything discreditable.  "

"Oh, I'm sure of that, too--even if you have been meeting in secret."

This eased the pressure on Trish.  She began to laugh.  L

"And you shouldn't be saying that to me, either."  I

"My dear Miss Courtney, I am doing you the honour of treating you as a highly
sensible young woman.

I am only sorry that Sir Gerard denied his relationship with young Marriott
for such a long time--I assume that he thought that he had good reason for
doing so, because by rights he ought to be here at table with us, not waiting
like a servant for the Prince to speak to him later, when dinner is over.  "

Trish, who had heard nothing of the Prince's command to Alien to wait on him
again after the meal, began to tremble once more.  Tom saw it, and put his
large old hand on her small young one for the briefest of moments.  "I told
you not to worry," he said gently, 'and I meant it.  "

Jordan Foster, watching them, wondered what that aristocratic ass Moidore was
saying to Trish Courtney and what she was saying to him.

Was it about young Marriott?  He could not make up his mind whether the
evening's revelations were a good or a bad thing for him.  It was possible
that Schuyler would be sufficiently annoyed on learning that Marriott had
been concealing so much from him that he would be prepared to believe that it
also meant that he was dishonest--if only in revenge for being brutally
snubbed for so many years.  As for Alien, he was in ferment.  Gerard had
despatched a footman to tell him to wait in the small drawing room, not the
large one to which the ladies would retire after dinner when they left the
men to their port.  He had barely had time to sit down when Timson entered,
followed by a footman carrying Alien's dinner, a bottle of wine and a glass
on a large tray.  He laid the tray on the table, which he dragged from its
position behind the sofa, bowed and left.  Alien stared at it.  He had never
felt less like food.  On the other hand he had never felt more like getting
drunk.  He picked up the opened bottle of red wine and poured a large measure
of it into his glass.  He looked up to find Timson's beady eye on him.

Recklessness being the order of the night, he said roughly to Timson, "For
God's sake, man, do me the favour of drinking with me!  There's a tray of
glasses on the sideboard yonder and you can save me from becoming totally
legless by sharing the bottle with me.  And then you can inform me why I am
being favoured by your presence."

Timson said,

"Sir Gerard thought that under the circumstances you ought not to be left
alone."

"And I'm sure that you know what those circumstances are," said Alien
savagely.   Timson gave him his most conspiratorial smile.   "Oh, yes,
indeed, sir.   I knew that you were Sir Gerard's cousin even before you
arrived here to be Sir Gerard's secretary.   Lady Schuyler, on the other
hand, only found out late this afternoon, when she received a letter from
your mama--in time to save you and Sir Gerard from even greater
embarrassment.   Very fortunate, was it not?"   Alien took a great swig of
wine.   "Fortunate indeed.   Tell me, Timson, who was it who advised my
mother to inform Lady Schuyler that I was Gerard's cousin--and if you don't
drink some of this god damned wine with me I shall tell Sir Gerard who it was
and you may take the consequences."   "In that case, sir..."   And Timson
ghosted over to the sideboard, picked up a wine glass and poured himself an
even larger bumper.   "Your health, Mr Alien--which should be your true title
here--and good luck to you in all your many ventures.   I gather that, since
he does not know of it.   Lord Grimthorpe did not enlighten my employer about
your secret affaire with Miss Courtney."   Alien gave a great moan and poured
himself more wine.   "Any more of my secrets which you would like to share
with me, Timson?   Don't be coy.   Spit everything out."   "Well, Mr Alien--'
and Timson gazed at him over the top of his wine glass '--there is the matter
of the railway accident..."   "Now how the.   devil did you know about that?
And while you're at it, do sit down.   If there's anything I dislike it's a
wordy know-all towering over me!"   Timson obediently sat down opposite to
him.

"If you insist, Mr Alien.  As to the railway accident, I fear that it would
not be politic to reveal how I came to know of it.  I have been wishful to
congratulate you on your courage, but again, prudence held me back.  May I
add that I don't think that you ought to drink any more?  You are still to
have an audience with the Prince."

"For my sins, Timson, for my sins.   And allow me to inform you of something
else.   Again for my sins, unlike my late and unlamented father, I have a
very hard head.   It's a trait I share with the Schuylers, not the Mamotts.
One bottle of wine is hardly likely to overset me completely, and, since I am
sharing it with you, I shall certainly manage to pass as the sober, competent
drudge that Sir Gerard thought I was."   "Now there was an odd thing," said
Timson thoughtfully, refilling his glass.

"That Sir Gerard should misjudge you so completely.  Not usually his way at
all, not at all."

"Good God, Timson, never tell me that I can enlighten you for a change.   My
father was the most idle, worthless, gambling drunkard who ever mistreated
his wife and son, threw away a fortune, committed suicide and left his family
penniless.   I have the misfortune to look like him, and every time my
usually shrewd cousin set eyes on me he saw my late, unlamented father, not
me.   And since he disliked my father intensely--and rightly--he has spent
the last nine years waiting for me to go the same way that he did.   I have
remained sober and industrious as much to spite Gerard as for any other
reason!"

"Not quite, Mr Alien, not quite," said Timson.  "If I may take the liberty of
remarking that you are very like Sir Gerard in character and there was never
the slightest danger that you would go to the bad.  May I advise you to eat
your dinner?  The guinea fowl is excellent and does not deserve to grow
cold."

"Oh, very well."   Alien poured out the last drops of the Chateauneuf du
Pape--Gerard had ordered the best in his cellar for him--and began to eat his
dinner.   He looked across at Timson.   "Have you had your dinner?   If not,
you may share this with me."   "Very kind of you Mr Alien, but I dined some
time ago.   You know, when you arrived here the staff thought you
stand-offish because you were a quiet man.

Your consideration for them--something not many show--soon won them over.  "
" Except for the butler," Alien said, picking up the guinea fowl's leg and
beginning to gnaw at it--something which he could not have done if he had
been dining with the Prince.  " Oh, him!  " Timson shrugged his shoulders to
show what he thought of the butler.  A companionable silence followed, and if
Gerard had sent Timson to Alien in order to ease the pangs of waiting to be
quizzed by the Prince again he had certainly succeeded.  He had even stopped
Alien from worrying about Trish, and how she would respond to his
relationship with Gerard and the fact of his concealing it.  He hoped that
she was enjoying the guinea fowl, too.  Tom Moidore's kindness restored
Trish's appetite and her savoir fairs.  She enjoyed her dinner, and when the
ladies retired to the drawing room she was able to join in their idle chat
without betraying how much she was worrying about Alien's coming audience
with the Prince of Wales.  " What an interesting young man Mr Marriott must
be," said the Princess to Torry, 'and he has the most charming smile.

Not many men who had their personal life held up for public inspection would
have behaved with such perfect self-control.  Your husband is to be
congratulated on his cousin.  "

"Yes, he is, isn't he?"  agreed Torry, not giving away the interesting fact
that she had only learned of the relationship at six-thirty, shortly before
their Royal Highnesses' arrival.  Trish, indeed, took the opportunity to say
rapidly and quietly to Torry, while the other women were listening to Violet
Kenilworth's amusing recital of her meeting with the Shah of Persia,

"I suppose that you learned that Alien was Gerard's cousin when he was
appointed to be Gerard's secretary."

Torry decided to be truthful.  "No, indeed.  I had not the slightest notion
until I received a letter today from his mother, who was under the impression
that I knew of it.  She was thanking me for my kindness to him--thanks which
I did not deserve.  Not that I was ever unkind, you understand, but my manner
to him would have been very different if I had known of the relationship."
She decided to be even more truthful.

"What I can't understand is why Gerard should have been strongly opposed to
your friendship with him, seeing that he is not only hardworking, clever and
good, but is also a member of the family.

Gerard is not usually irrational, but if I am honest I must confess that he
has been so in his treatment of Mr Marriott.  " Lady Kenilworth's comic turn,
in which she'd related how the Shah had offered to buy her from her husband
in order to install her in his harem, had come to an end.  Torry and Trish,
neither of whom had heard a word of it, dutifully laughed with the rest.
Trish, indeed, looked at her pendant watch--which the Princess had already
admired--and judged that it was highly likely that Alien would soon be having
his audience with the Prince.  Her judgement was almost immediately
vindicated when the gentlemen, minus the Prince, their host and Lord Moidore,
joined them to drink coffee and indulge in even more idle chat.

The men's arrival meant that the chat was now about the coming war with the
Transvaal and the end of the century.  No conversation in either high or low
society could last very long without the year 1900 cropping up in it.  Trish
had become light-headed enough to wonder if it might turn up in the Prince's
audience with Alien!

Chapter Twelve Alien had just polished off a dish of lemon souffle when the
door opened and the butler informed him that the Prince of Wales was ready to
receive Mr Marriott in the small drawing room.  He found the Prince seated in
a large armchair, puffing on a cigar; a glass of brandy was on a table at his
elbow.  The grey man stood beside him.  Gerard and Tom Moidore were seated
opposite to him, A chair for Alien had been posted where all four could see
him.  "Ah, Marriott.

You are as punctual as I expected.  Pray take a seat.  " And he waved a hand
at the chair.  " I decided to spare you further embarrassment by arranging
for Mr Beauchamp to ask you his question in private.  My one request is that
you will answer it truthfully.  " Alien bowed his head, and said quietly,

"I will do my best, sir," before sitting down.

"Excellent.  Beauchamp, the field is yours."  The grey man said, his voice as
low as Alien's had been,

"I believe, sir, that I owe my life to you.  Two months ago I was travelling
to London on the Birmingham to London train when it met with an accident.  I
was in one of the first class carriages and, although fortunate to survive
the crash without any other injury, I was trapped in it, unable to move and
consequently quite unable to save myself.  " I had been there for some little
time when a young man, with great difficulty, climbed into my compartment,
freed me and then lifted me towards the door.  He had smashed the window in
the- door and, again with great difficulty, manoeuvred me through it and to
safety.  I was unable to assist him because I was too shocked.  After that he
climbed out himself and entered several other compartments in order to rescue
any who were trapped.  Shortly after that I was told that he brought out a
young woman and her lady's maid immediately before the train fell down the
embankment, killing and seriously injuring those who were still inside it.
"The young man disappeared before he could be adequately thanked.

I believe that you are the young man who saved me, and that I now have the
opportunity to do what I was unable to do then and belatedly express my
heartfelt gratitude to you.  If I am mistaken, you will forgive me, but I do
not think I am.  " Alien said, still quiet.  " No, sir, you are not mistaken.
I accept your thanks, but I was only doing my duty as a young and active man
who had been fortunate enough to escape injury.  " Beauchamp shook his head,
and was about to say something further when Tom Moidore, who had leaned
forward the better to hear him, said forcefully,

"Good God, Marriott, it must have been you who saved Trish Courtney!  Why in
the world did she say nothing of it, nor you, either?  Nor did you come
forward later, when asked."

Alien's perfect calm remained unbroken when he answered Lord Moidore's two
questions.  "Miss Courtney said nothing because I asked her not to tell
anyone about my part in the accident.  She felt that she had a duty to obey
me because she believed that she owed her life to me.  I had no wish that
what I had done should be made public.  I didn't come forward afterwards
because I had nothing useful to add as to the cause of the crash.  The
thought of being lionised for doing what any decent person ought to have done
was distasteful to me."

Mr Beauchamp said gently,

"I can understand that, but not only did you risk your life several times, I
also understand that others were saved because it was you who took charge and
organised the rescue parties.  On top of that you climbed into the
locomotive's cab to try to rescue the driver, even though you were warned
that such an act would be highly dangerous.  I think that your conduct went
far above and beyond the call of duty."  Gerard, who had been listening
intently to Beauchamp, as had the Prince, said,

"This occurred at the end of your holiday, Marriott.  You also said nothing
of this to me.  Why not?"

"I have already told you, sir.   It was my business and no one else's."
Alien looked straight at the Prince, in order to address him and none other.

"Your Royal Highness, I am a very private person.  Circumstances have made me
so.  I would ask you to understand and not criticise me for that.  You, sir,
of all people, know by bitter experience what the harsh light of publicity
can do to one.  I wished to retain control over my own life-- not cede it to
others for a few hours' entertainment.  If it were wrong of me to ask Miss
Courtney to say nothing then I apologise to you and to her--and to Sir
Gerard.  But it was never a part of my duties to inform him of my private
life outside them.  And that goes for those details of it which Lord
Grimthorpe made public this evening."  There, he had said it at last, and
Gerard might make of it what he would.  The Prince said, his voice even more
guttural than usual, "Well spoken, Marriott.  Yes, I can quite understand
why you wished to remain anonymous.  There are times when I wish that I could
be anonymous, but my position does not allow me that privilege.  I trust that
your cousin will respect your wishes--as I do.  Now, Beauchamp, you have
thanked this young man, and his response was a gracious one.  I suggest that
it is time for us to join the others."  He turned his head to look as
straight at Alien as Alien had looked at him.  "Have you dined, young man?"
A little bewildered by this question.  Alien replied.  "Thank you, yes.  Sir
Gerard arranged for a meal to be sent to me."

"Excellent.   Then it is my wish that you join the rest of the party in the
drawing room."   He rose and signalled to those remaining to follow him, and,
when Alien stood back, said,

"No, no, you will walk with me and tell me about the paper of which
Grimthorpe spoke so cavalierly.  I shall probably not understand a word of
it, but no matter, that is the duty--and the punishment-- of Princes: that
they spend their time listening to the incomprehensible and must answer as
though they are the master of every subject raised in their presence!"

The upshot was that when the Prince walked into the drawing room he was deep
in conversation with that nonentity Sir Gerard Schuyler's secretary.  Once
seated, he then introduced him to his Princess and ordered Alien to tell her
of his part in the famous train crash which had briefly entertained England
earlier in the year.  Tom Moidore walked over to Trish and said, his face
amused,

"My dear Miss Courtney, I have to assume that that young man of yours
suborned you into keeping silent over his bravery in rescuing you.  You make.
a fine pair of conspirators, I must say!  How did he win you over?  No,
don't answer me--I have to believe, having seen him at work this evening,
that should he wish to do so he could win anyone over--if he cared to, that
is."  Trish was defensive.  "You are not to blame him for keeping quiet.  I
quite understand why he did."

"I agree with you, but one thing is plain to me, if not to everyone.   Your
young man has the pride of the devil and a will of steel behind his quiet
manner."   Irish's smile was pure delight.   "But he does not show it, does
he?   I know him well enough to know that he is good and kind as well.   He
was quite alone in the world when he came to be Gerard's secretary, with no
family and few friends, other than Mr Nance, that is."   If Tom Moidore was
surprised to learn that Gerard Schuyler's cousin was alone in the world he
did not show it, instead he murmured, "Mr Nance?"   Trish immediately told
him about Mr Nance and his shop in Piccadilly, and Tom Moidore, that
collector of strange facts, listened to her with grave interest, as did
Torry, who had come up to them.

"That is where you went when you were supposed to be with Lucy Chalfont!"
she exclaimed, before she could stop herself.  Tom Moidore was more amused
than ever by this further revelation.  Trish said defensively,

"Alien was working there on his day off.  He's wonderful with clocks and
watches and does all the fine work for Mr Nance now that his eyes are not
what they were.  Mr Nance wants him to take over the shop when he retires.
He was very kind to Alien nearly five years ago, when Alien first arrived
here and was quite alone in London."

Gerard's wife privately made up her mind to have a stern word with Gerard
before he performed his husbandly duties that night.  Whatever could have
possessed him to be so unkind to that poor lonely young man who was so
devoted in his duties to him and to everyone else?  He deserved better.
What was odd was that this behaviour was not typical of Gerard, who usually
looked after his family.  The Prince finally let Alien go with a last kind
word.  He, too, had learned of Mr Nance, and had listened to Alien's brief
resume of his paper with every sign of interest-- which might have deceived
Alien had he not earlier heard the Prince's disclaimer!  After that he was
accosted by all those who wished to keep the Prince's favour by favouring
someone whom he had favoured.  From being outside of society and looking in
Alien was now inside it, and was the sensation of the moment to be acclaimed
in everyone's dining room and ballroom as Gerard Schuyler's cousin and the
unknown hero of the train wreck who had saved Patricia Courtney and Hugh
Beauchamp among others.  He was rapidly beginning to feel rather as though a
large steamroller had passed over him, and he had an overwhelming desire to
go upstairs to his room and pull the bedclothes over his head.  He had heard
some of the women servants in Park Lane come out with the phrase

"I could do with a nice lie-down," and now he knew what they meant!  He could
see Trish talking animatedly to Tom Moidore, but the very idea of going over
to them made the 'nice lie- down' seem even more imperative.  He was used to
being quiet and private, and the thought that every eye was on him was
daunting in itself.  If only he could be left alone.  Lord Grimthorpe,
however, never left anyone alone.

He had just been informed by Beau- champ of the railway accident and Alien's
part in it, and he buttonholed him even as Alien made his first tentative
steps towards Trish and sanity.  "Sorry about all that earlier this evening,"
he boomed jovially.  "Didn't mean to create quite such a large tohubohu..."

Alien could not resist the opportunity thus presented.  He interrupted the
noble Lord's confident roar with,

"A small one would have been better, perhaps?"  suggested with apparent
sincerity.  "Exactly."  And then,

"You're roasting me, dammit!  Beau- champ told me that you were a dark horse
in every way, and so you bloody well are.  Butter wouldn't melt in your
mouth, eh, but I bet that it would dam'd well freeze.

Heard about you and the train--regular Renaissance man, eh?  " This torrent
of words, far from exhausting Alien, invigorated him.  The weariness which
had previously afflicted him disappeared.  He even managed a grin.  " Oh, I
thought that description was reserved for you, m'lord.  " " Grimthorpe to
you, Marriott.  You deserve that for your insolence.  " The laugh with which
he followed this last sally turned every head in their direction.  Satisfied
by the effect he had produced, Grimthorpe strode off, leaving Alien to Trish,
who had come over to congratulate him.  " The evening is yours.  Alien.  No
one can talk of anyone or anything else.  " " You know how little I value
that,"

he told her half under his breath.  "I do, but Tom Moidore said that you had
the pride of the devil, by which I think he meant that you are content to be
yourself without troubling about what others think of you."  Again her
insight surprised him, but before he could say anything she told him, her
voice as level as she could make it,

"And if Gerard reproaches you for keeping what you were doing from him, then
you have every right to reproach him for shutting you out of his family and
leaving you to be alone in London.  He was not to know that you would find a
friend and patron in Mr Nance--and I shall not liesit ate to tell him that
if he says anything critical of you in front of me."

"Dearest love," he murmured, 'you are not to trouble yourself about me.   I
came to terms long ago with my position as an outcast.

Better so.  I am my own man, not his nor any other's.  " " All the same, my
darling, he had no business warning you off me when all the time you were his
cousin.  " " I was also the poor relation who might become importunate," he
offered.  " After all, I didn't cause tonight's commotion, and I'm rather
looking forward to what Gerard will have to say to me in the morning.  "
Trish's expression changed to one of pure mischief before she said,

"The next person who is going to make a fuss of you is Lady Kenilworth.  I
can see her coming towards us over your shoulder.  Promise me that you won't
be unfaithful to me--she has the reputation of being a ma neater, and by the
look on her face you are the man she wishes to eat tonight!"

 "God forbid," he said fervently.

Trish, my darling, you do realise one thing.  Gerard is going to find it
difficult to keep us apart after tonight's revelations.  I've suddenly turned
into the industrious apprentice who also happens to be his cousin.  I've
already been invited to two dinner parties and one reception when all I
really want is to be alone with you, without deceit or secrecy to spoil
things.  " " Oh, dear, I shan't be able to take immediate advantage of
Gerard's having to give way," Trish told him ruefully.  " I'm due to spend a
few days with an old school friend, an engagement I couldn't cry off without
causing her distress.  " " Never mind, when we do meet again it will be all
the sweeter for having been lost to one another for a little time.  " Alien
could say no more, for Lady Kenilworth was on him and Trish was compelled to
relinquish him to her, but he carried the thought of meeting after parting
with her until the evening was over.  Once released from the Lady, Alien
approached Torry and asked to be excused.  " Of course," she told him.

"You look exhausted.  Don't let Gerard bully you tomorrow morning.  It's his
fault that Grimthorpe nearly wrong-footed him over you tonight, not yours.
Sleep well."  After that, Gerard's buttonholing him as he left with the words,

"Report to me first thing tomorrow morning, Marriott

I need to talk to you," had little effect on Alien, other than to cause him
to reply,

"Oh, yes, sir, without fail.  I think that I might have a few words to say to
you, as well."  He didn't wait for an answer, but made his farewell to the
Prince and the Princess of Wales.  The Princess, like Torry, thought that
young Mamott looked as though he needed the benefit of a good night's sleep:
a nice lie-down, in fact!

"Your confounded secrecy made me look like a dam'd fool last night, Marriott,
and only a piece of blind luck allowed my wife to save me from becoming a
laughing stock for not knowing of your prowess.

Whatever could have possessed you to keep silent about your part in the
railway accident and then persuade Trish Courfney to do the same?  "

Gerard would have liked to use the edge of his tongue on his cousin and
secretary, but the revelation of first his intelligence and then his courage
prevented him from doing any such thing.  One could scarcely reproach
overmuch someone who had behaved as Alien had done, and one could understand
and forgive Trish Courtney for falling in love with the man who had saved
her.  Alien said quietly,

"I will give you the answer which I gave the Prince of Wales last night: it
was my business, and no one else's.  I can now remind you as I could not
last night--that it was you who insisted as a condition of my employment
that I should not reveal my relationship to the Schuyler family."

"Well, I was wrong," admitted Gerard bluntly, 'and a fair roasting I got
from my wife last night for treating you as I did.   Let me say at once that
I shall continue to acknowledge you and, what's more, I can no longer insist
that you stay away from Trish Courtney.   "

He paused, gave a wry smile, and added,

"From something further my wife said to me last night I believe that you have
not obeyed my orders over that, either!  In the meantime you will continue to
be my secretary, but last night's revelation that we are cousins must change
your way of life here.  In future, among other things, you will dine with the
family."

"There is no need for that, sir."   "For God's sake," bellowed Gerard, 'give
way a little yourself, Marriott.   Tony and Tom Moidore both agree that you
have the pride of the devil and that in many ways you are more like me than I
am like myself.   I don't see the resemblance, since I'm noisy and you're
quiet, but since neither of them are fools there must be something in what
they say.   What I have to do in future is find work for you in which you can
use your hidden talents.   I'm not having Rothschild's poach you from me!
"Now that's over, let's get down to some work."   I suppose I really ought to
give way gracefully, if only because I'm being allowed to pay court to Trish.
Another thought struck Alien and he began to smile; he couldn't help it.
Of course he was like Gerard.   He was both strong- minded and single-minded,
and when he wanted something he went after it with all the mental and
physical resources at his command.   Nothing was allowed to stand in his way.
He was devious, too--like Gerard.

The only difference between them was that he was able to stand back and
exarnii himself critically while Gerard never could.  "What the devil's so
amusing?"  Gerard barked at him i Alien's smile grew.  "Just that although my
name isn't Schuyler, and I'\ spent the best part of ten years detesting the
very sound ( it, I seem to be more like the Schuylers than the Marriotts

"And thank God for that," Gerard said fervently.  Tr last two generations
have all been wastrels.  You've a lot to thank your mother for.  " This was
typically Gerard in its savage bluntness, ar Alien could not prevent himself
from laughing.  Unwilling at first, Gerard joined him.  Wiping his eyes, he
said,

"I think that I misjudged you because of your name and your father, and I must
ask you to forgive me for that."

"Willingly, cousin, willingly."   "Shake hands on it then, cousin."   And
Gerard of fen Alien his.   Later Alien thought wryly that that should have be
that.   He had been vindicated, his years as the industnoi uncomplaining
apprentice had paid off, Gerard had a accepted him, he was free to ask Trish
to marry him in ee nest, and he had been promised a future career at Schuyler
greater than the modest one he already possessed.   Gera had said nothing of
Mr Nance and his interest there--t that was for him to work out.   All in all
everything seemed set fair.   But he forgot tithe gods like to play dice with
men, and they were not} finished with Alien Marriott.   Before the heavens
fell in again he told Trish of Gerarc change of heart when he drank coffee
with her in the libra before she left to stay with her friend.

"Lord Grimthorpe did you a good turn, after all," she st softly, thinking
that the lines of strain were already being erased from his face.  "Helped by
the Prince of Wales of all people."  Alien gave a short laugh.  "It's funny,
really, like a true democratic Yankee I've always thought of the British
Royal family as an anachronism and I couldn't understand why Gerard respected
him.  Now I know.  The Prince isn't clever as the world counts cleverness,
but he understands men and women, that's for sure.  I still think that
Britain could do with a little more Yankee-style equality, though--perhaps
the next century will see that happen.  Gerard says that the British are
slowly becoming more like us."  Trish put her hand out to cover his.  "I'm
glad Gerard was kind to us both.  I'm sorry we can't take advantage of it at
once."

"Never mind, I shall be here waiting for you when you return."  How the gods
must have laughed when he said that, but that morning nothing marred their
happiness.  Alien even took her in his arms and kissed her goodbye as though
they were parting for years and not for one short week.  "But you will come
down to see me off," were her last words.

"Tbrry thought that you ought to.  I gather that she had a few words with
Gerard last night."  Alien gave her his slow smile, not rueful now.

"Gerard told me that she had dressed him down royally--in the nicest possible
way.  I think that she's like the Prince.  She doesn't nag him so much as
wear him down with sweet reasonableness in that gentle voice."  How wise he
was, and how much he saw, thought Trish as she waved goodbye to him from the
motor which was taking her away--and how long the week apart from him would
seem.

 The week seemed impossibly long to Alien when his day's work was over, but
during the busy day time flew by him.  Whether it was Gerard's altered--and
kinder--manner to him which did the trick he was not quite sure, but halfway
through it he pinned down the wrongness in Gerard's records and immediately
began to write a short report to him.

He now had no doubt that Hall had been involved.  He suspected that it was
Jordan Foster for whom he had been secretly working, but he had no proof of
that.  On the morning when he was ready to present his findings to Gerard he
found him at his desk in their office-cum study--which was odd in itself,.
since he usually arrived after Alien had started work.  He looked up, his
face grave, when Alien arrived with the folder containing the report which he
had finished writing after dinner the night before.  "Don't go to your desk,
Alien--take a seat opposite to me.  I have something serious to discuss with
you."  It was the first time that Gerard had addressed him by his Christian
name, which was surprise enough: what he said afterwards was even more
amazing.  "I will be completely frank with you.  I told you some time ago
that massive embezzlement on a large scale had been occurring at Schuyler's.
What I did not tell you was that details of my plans had also been steadily
leaked to some of my competitors, to their advantage.  I then took action, of
which I did not inform you, to discover who could be the culprit--or
culprits.  " I hired an ex-policeman named Norris to look into the
business--again I did not inform you.  " He stopped.  " What are you smiling
at.  Alien?  Nothing that I have said is even vaguely amusing.  " How to tell
Gerard that he knew all about Norris--and the other man for whom he was
working?  He decided to say nothing for the moment.  By Gerard's manner
something more was on the way.  " A stray thought, sir, nothing more.  " "
Well, don't harbour stray thoughts when I am telling you something
important--and by the way, when we are alone you may call me Gerard.  " "
Yes, Gerard," he said in his usual meek manner--with its underlying mockery.
By now Gerard was used to Alien's ways and he smiled himself before he
continued.  " I now have to tell you that last night, after dinner, Norris
came here in a state of great excitement and told me that he had found my
traitor.  " He paused again, his eyes hard on Alien's face, which remained
impassive.  Gerard was not to know that Alien was thinking that, after all,
since Gerard already knew of it, he need not be the one to report Hall's
treachery.  On the other hand the report he was carrying would help to pin
down his guilt.  " That is good news, Gerard, is it not?  " And he held up
the file.  " I was going to give you this this morning.  I think that I have
worked out how the swindle was done and who did it.  Added to Norris's
information it should sink our traitor for good and all.  " Gerard stared at
the file which Alien had placed on his desk.  " I hadn't given you the
traitor's name.  Alien, and you act as if you know it--no, don't answer me,
let me finish.

Norris told me, and offered proof, that the traitor is you.  " If Gerard had
thought that this news would rob his cousin of his poker face he was wrong.
" Did he, indeed, Gerard?  And what was your response to that?  Before you
tell me I have to assure you that I am not your traitor, however many pieces
of paper Norris has given you to prove it.  But then, I would say that,
wouldn't I?  "

Alien's voice was as steady as ever but his brain was whirling madly.

He had secretly considered this possibility--that he might be set up, or
framed, as the Americans had it, for Hall's villainy--but had dismissed it as
fancifully absurd, something out of a dime novel.  But, after all, dime
novels were inspired by men like Jordan Foster and Robert Hall, were they
not?  Gerard's answer was as blunt as ever.

"Before you came here to be my secretary I might have believed what I was
told.  I might even have thought that you were seeking revenge on me for my
denial of our relationship.  But I have come to know you, and although the
other evening's revelations were something of a surprise to me they were not
totally so.  Your modesty about your heroism was another factor.  If you say
that you are not the villain who has stolen my money and my secrets I shall
believe you, for, like Tom Moidore, I think that you are almost painfully
honest.  I have no doubts whatsoever about your integrity."  This was
surrender indeed!  Alien said,

"You are taking quite a risk in saying that.  Let me repeat again that I am
innocent in this matter.  When you examine the file before you I believe that
you will discover that your late secretary, Robert Hall, was involved in a
conspiracy against you and that I can prove it.

He was bribing your butler to pass useful information on to him.  "I have
other information to give you which may lead you to the man who is behind
Hall.  My friend and patron, Mr Nance, had enquiries made which revealed that
Jordan Foster was having me followed by an ex-policeman named Morris.  He
also told me that you, not knowing of this, had hired the same man to make
your enquiries--which made it even easier for him to frame me for the crime.
Once I knew that Norris was playing a double game, I redoubled my own secret
investigation into your records..."  He was interrupted by a bellow of
laughter from Gerard.  "What a priceless pair of devious Schuyler schemers we
are, young Alien!  And if Jordan Foster is the man behind Hall then that
makes sense, too.  He stands to profit most by damaging me.  It's as good as
a play, it really is.  All of us keeping secrets from the other..."  Alien
laughed with him, before saying,

"If you believe my denial, and once having read my report I cannot believe
other than that you will, you will also agree that Hall and Foster are the
swindlers.  Have you a plan of action?  How do we frame the framers?"  Gerard
thought of his unregenerate youth in the States, when he had tiptoed around
the edges of legality, of his knowledge of the various ploys employed by the
criminal underworld and the police in order to trap people.  "A sting," he
said at last.  "That's it.  We must set up a sting."

"A sting?"   Alien echoed.   "Yes, it's a way of cheating the cheats by
providing them with a false story.   I think I know how to do that, but it
would involve you having to do something unpleasant, perhaps even dangerous,
since I would have to act as though I believed Norris's report and dismiss
you.   I would tell I Norris that I will not bring a criminal prosecution
against you because of our relationship and the consequent scandal it would
cause."   Alien thought that he could see the essence of Gerard's plan.   "I
see.   If you dismissed me the plotters would think that they had won and
would relax their guard, having achieved their objective.   You, on the other
hand, would continue your investigations with my secret help."   "True, but
you would be left exposed until I had succeeded--if I were to succeed, that
is.   If you think that I am asking too much of you, then we must think of
something else."   Alien's face betrayed nothing of his inward turmoil.
Either way he was in a false position.   If Gerard did nothing then, although
he might retain his place with Gerard, the true criminals would remain
unpunished and there would always be a secret stain against his name.   At
the worst Foster might even tell the Press, or his friends, that Alien was
the swindler who had robbed Gerard.   On the other hand if Gerard appeared to
dismiss him but was unable to trap the true criminals the secret stain would
still remain.   He thought that he preferred the second alternative, which
gave him a stronger chance of being cleared since it offered them a chance to
trap Foster.   "I'll do it," he said at last.   "I can go to Mr Nance and
work in his shop."   "Good.   It's a sacrifice for you, I know, but what else
are we to do?"   He pulled a piece of writing paper towards him.   "To
protect you and your reputation I am going to write a statement outlining our
plan.   I shall lodge it in a sealed envelope with my solicitor and in case
anything happens to me you can ask for it to be published."   "You think
that, if cornered.   Poster might resort to murder?"   "Perhaps--a wise man
covers all contingencies, so you must be careful yourself."   Gerard wrote
rapidly for some moments, then tossed the letter over to Alien for him to
approve of it, which he did.   "And you trust me to do this?"   Gerard asked,
his dark face serious.   "I have to, and I don't think my trust in you is
misplaced."

"Nor do I," said Gerard, sealing the envelope, 'think that I am wrong to
trust that you are telling me the truth.  " He looked wryly up at Alien.  "
Marriott, you're fired.  You will leave Park Lane before the evening--and I
shall inform Norris of your dismissal immediately.  But I shall also make
sure that I arrange for his every movement to be watched before the day is
out.  " He thrust out a hand.  " Good luck.

Alien, and I beg of you, don't do anything reckless yourself.  " Alien took
the proffered hand and shook it, saying, surprise in his voice, " Why ever
should you think I would?  " " Because in your shoes I would, and if Moidore
and the rest are telling the truth, we are very much alike.  If you wish to
get in touch with me use the telephone.  You will be my new English broker.
Jack Mullens--no one will think it odd that I spend a lot of time on the
phone with him.  " " I shall go to Mr Nance's shop off Piccadilly, and take
up my old rooms there," Alien said, 'and curse the man who sacked me.  I
shall say nothing to him of our plan.  For his own safety the less he knows
the better.  He has already been threatened with violence because of his
connection with me."

"Agreed.   Good luck, Alien.   I shall try to flush out Foster and Hall and
put an end to this wretched business as soon as possible.   In the meantime
you must go downstairs and look unhappy."   His own manner melancholy, Gerard
added,

"Tbrry isn't going to like it a bit when she hears that I've sent you away,
but we daren't tell her, or Trish, the truth, either.  Their ignorance will
ensure their safety."  With that the cousins parted, friends and allies at
last.

Chapter Thirteen IVIr Nance's first words to Alien when he arrived, carrying
his luggage and asking for his old rooms back, were made more in sorrow than
in anger.  "Turned you away, did he?  You would never have left in such a
rush of your own accord."  Alien's reply was equally sorrowful.  "I'm afraid
that's true, but I'd rather not talk about it."

He didn't want to lie to the good old man, and he knew that Mr Nance would
honour his request for silence.  "Well, you know that there's always a home
for you here, and I must say I'm glad to see you.  I've a tricky job on the
bench which is proving too much for me.  You've no need to go applying for a
new post straight away.  I'll put the kettle on.  You'll feel better after a
cup of tea."  Mr Nance was right; it really was like coming home.  The only
thing missing was Trish.  He and Gerard had decided that he would not leave
her a letter; Torry would have to tell her that he had been dismissed.  He
spoke of his unhappiness about this to Gerard when he rang him on the
following afternoon.  Gerard was experiencing mixed feelings about Alien's
absence.  "They've sent me an idiot called Barstow to fill your place," he
moaned.  "I might as well be doing the job myself."  On the other hand he was
much happier when he spoke of the progress of the sting.  "Your information
about Norris was quite correct," he said jubilantly.  "My man tells me that
he's working for Foster, no doubt about it.  I've a man on Hall as well.
He's been living high on the hog, as we crude Yankees say, far beyond what
his pay here could have provided for him, however much he had supposedly
inherited.  I suppose part of what he stole from Schuyler's is responsible
for that.  A high-up friend at Scotland Yard has done some investigation for
me and discovered that a large sum of money was paid into his bank account
just before he resigned from my service.  With luck it shouldn't be long
before Hall and Foster are behind bars and you're back in Park Lane.  " I
invited Foster and his ugly wife to dinner last night and told him that I had
turned my ungrateful cousin and secretary away.

When he asked why I looked mysterious and said that I preferred not to
answer.  Have you found anything out at your end?  " " Nothing," said Alien,
grinning to himself as he listened to Gerard.  He had long known that his
cousin was at his jovial and piratical best when involved in this kind of
dubious action, 'but then I didn't expect to."

"Trish is home tomorrow," Gerard finished.   "I suppose I ^ shall get it in
the neck when she finds you gone--in mysterious circumstances."   "It can't
be helped," Alien told him.   "It must look as though I was turned out within
the hour and unable to write to her."   "True," Gerard conceded.

"Ring me up tomorrow evening; I hope to have more news.  Everything looks
promising at the moment."  Alien had a delightful vision of a maddened Trish,
all  dainty Pekingese, hurling herself at the equally maddened solid bulldog
which was Gerard.  It accompanied him all the way back to Mr Nance's shop,
and he even managed to enjoy his evening meal before he retired to his
solitary bed to dream of his dear girl back with him again.  "I don't like
it."  In his palatial city office Jordan Foster was talking to Norris.  "I
don't know why, but I feel in my bones that there's something odd going on
with Schuyler."

"Well, he has fired Man-ion.   He booted him out first thing in the morning
and paid my bill into the bargain, writing " with thanks" on it."   Foster
strode restlessly to the window to look out at the busy street below.   "All
the same he refused to prosecute him--not like Schuyler at all.   He's a hard
bastard and I can't believe that he'd hold off just because the man he
thought had rooked him was his cousin.   Where's Marriott gone?"

"Back to Nance in his place off Piccadilly.  My informant says that he's
acting as his mechanic while Nance minds the shop."

"I still don't like it.   The only thing which would make me happy would be
to dispose of Marriott altogether.   That would end the matter.   Could that
be arranged, do you think?"   Norris made a face.   "For a price, yes.   It's
bound to cost you.   What sort of disposal did you have in mind?"   "A
bungled robbery in which the old man is left injured and Marriott is
unfortunately killed.   The police wouldn't question that overmuch, and if
Schuyler is suspicious about whether Marriott is guilty or not it would leave
him with precious little to work on.   Whoever does for Marriott can loot the
shop to make it look as though robbery were the object and Marriott's death
merely an unfortunate consequence of his resistance."

Morris said,

"Are you sure that you want me to arrange this?  It could be dangerous if
anything went wrong."

"It's your job to make sure that nothing does go wrong.   See that it's done
as soon as possible.   In this business every day might be vital.   Oh, and
say nothing to Hall about this.   He's been well paid and the less he knows
the better."

Norris shrugged his shoulders and left.  If he thought that Foster was
tempting fate somewhat, he didn't say so.  The man paid well and, given his
piratical mode of operations, would doubtless need more of Norris's special
brand of assistance in the future.  After all, what could go wrong?
Everything had gone well up to now, and Foster's doubts could be discounted
as those of a man who, needing others to carry out his dirty work, fretted
about whether that work had been efficiently carried out or not.  Well, he
needn't worry: Norris prided himself that he had never let any of his
paymasters down yet.  Trish returned to Park Lane in a state of high
excitement at the prospect of seeing Alien again.  The moment she entered the
house she started up the stairs in order to see him in the office before she
changed out of her travelling clothes.  She had barely gone up two steps
before the butler said behind her,

"Oh, Miss Courtney, if you are hoping to see Mr Marriott in the office I
think that I ought to tell you that he no longer resides here.  Sir Gerard
dismissed him shortly after you left."  All Trish's good manners--as well as
her joy--deserted her on the instant.  "What?"

she exclaimed.  "Can that possibly be true?"

"Very true," smirked the butler.   "Sir Gerard threw him out of the house at
nine in the morning with orders not to return."

He didn't tell Trish that, shortly after Alien's dismissal, Norris had
rewarded him well for information passed on.  Trish said no more, simply
turned on her heel and ran up the stairs again--if Gerard was in the office
he had some explaining to do.  Gerard was sitting at his desk, gloomily
trying to make Barstow understand something which Alien would have grasped
immediately--a tedious task which he thought that he ought to have been
spared.  Trish glared at the unfortunate Barstow, even though it wasn't his
fault that he had usurped Alien's place.

"Could I speak to you privately, Gerard?"  she asked.  Gerard, who knew
perfectly well why she had arrived so precipitately, sighed.  It was bad
enough having to nursemaid Barstow, without trying to deal with a rampant
Trish arrived to defend her man.  "If you must," he said.  "I am quite busy."
"I'm sure that you could find me five minutes of your valuable time," Trish
riposted nastily.  "Oh, very well.  Barstow, go into the library and try to
remember what I have just been telling you."

"Yes, indeed.   Sir Gerard," Barstow gasped, only too happy to be relieved
for five minutes of his demanding employer.   "What is it, Trish?"   asked
Gerard, who knew perfectly well why Trish was bearding him in his holy of
holies.   "Now, Gerard, you know quite well why I am here.   Is it true that
you have dismissed Alien during my absence?"

"Yes, I am afraid I have."

"But why?   You always told Torry and me that, whatever else, he was a
perfect secretary.   Is it because of me?

If that's the reason, I take it very ill.  " " No, Trish, it is nothing to do
with you, and I really can't be explaining to you why I have dismissed him.
It is sufficient to say that I have.  "

"No, it isn't," said Trish hotly.  "Not only is he your cousin but you also
know that he and I love one another and that we hope to marry soon."

"That has nothing to do with the matter, and I really can't discuss business
matters with you, Trish, you must understand that."

This interview was somewhat worse than Gerard had expected when he had
discussed the possibility of it with Alien.  He had known that Trish was
high-spirited, but he had not recognised how strong-willed she was beneath
her charming manner.  He had thought that if he were pleasantly firm she
would soon give up and accept Alien's dismissal as given.  This now looked
unlikely.  "But it's not simply a business matter, is it, Gerard?  He's your
cousin and my young man.  Couldn't you have waited until I returned?"

"No, Trish, I couldn't.   There were important business reasons involved
which meant that I had to act immediately.

I'm afraid that you'll have to accept that--for it's the truth.  " Which was,
in a way, no lie--although the 'business reasons' were not the normal ones
which Trish--or any other listener--might have thought that they were.  Trish
could see that it was useless.  Gerard had his hard face on: the face which
meant that he was adamant, not to be shaken.

She had only rarely seen it, but she recognised it immediately for what it
was.  "Very well," she said.  "I shall have to consider what I must do next.
You do understand that, I hope."

"And / hope that you're not contemplating doing anything rash.   Don't
engage in anything which you might regret later."   Trish did not deign to
answer that.   She merely said,

"I know that you are my guardian, but there are times when I have to
consider my own interests and this is one of them."  She ran lightly
downstairs, laughing to herself a little when she heard Gerard bellow for his
unfortunate secretary.  She was planning her next moves all the way down to
the entrance hall.  I'm sure, she told herself, that Alien will have gone to
Mr Nance and that's where I shall make for.  I'm also sure that Alien will
tell me the truth when I get there.

I'll get that wretched butler who dislikes Alien to call me a cab.

This proved unnecessary, however, for when Trish reached the bottom of the
stairs the butler was involved with a male visitor who was asking in ringing
tones to see Miss Courtney immediately.  "I'm afraid that she's closeted with
Sir Gerard at the moment..."

"No, I'm not," said Trish pleasantly.   "It's Harry, isn't it?"   She would
have known his voice anywhere.   He advanced on her, immaculately dressed and
carrying a stick which she had never seen before: Harry collected them.   "I
say, Trish, it's most important.   I've got one thing to tell you, and
another thing to show you."   "Do you mean the stick.   Harry?"   "The stick?
No, not that, but it's rather splendid, isn't it?   It has a rhino's head
carved in ivory for a handle.   Quite unique, I'm told."

Trish nobly refrained from telling Harry that a thing was either unique or
not, and 'quite' never came into it.  Instead she admired the rhino on top of
its black pole and said,

"You'll have to be quick with your news.  Harry.  I'm about to go out and I
came down to ask the butler to call me a cab."

"Oh, I say, Trish, how jolly fortunate!   No need for that, no need at all.
I've come to visit you in my new motor, intending to ask you to go for a
spin with me.   It'll be my pleasure to drive you wherever you want to go."
And why not?   Trish thought.

Harry could be useful for once.  "Yes, you can drive me to Mr Nance's shop
just off Piccadilly if that's not too far out of your way."

"Be my pleasure, Trish, and I can tell you my news on the way there."   His
kind face crumpled a bit.   "But why on earth do you want to go Nance's
shop?"   "I'll tell you when you've told me your news."   "Righty-ho, off we
go."   And Harry gallantly offered Trish his arm, and escorted her to the
waiting motor which stood at the kerb.   "Much better than a horse for
getting around town," Harry told her when he had settled her in it, 'doesn't
even champ at the bit.   Off we go!   " " Your news, Harry?   " Trish asked,
once she was sure that Harry was safely on his way.   " Oh, that!

You needn't trouble yourself about me being a nuisance any more I mean
pestering you to marry me | and all that.  I offered for Lucy Chalfont last
week Mother and I were staying there and when I popped the question she
couldn't wait to say yes.  " Quite forgetting the road, he turned his artless
face around to face Trish.  I hope you don't mind, old girl, but you were
right; it wouldn't have done.  You and I, I mean.  Lucy, now, she's more like
me, and Mother thoroughly approves of her, too.  Her sort of girl, she says.
Your turn now."

"It's Alien Marriott," Trish said, not beating about the bush.   "He's left
Park Lane and I believe that he's staying at Mr Nance's, where he used to
lodge.   Be a dear and take me there.   I can't wait to see him.   And,
Harry, I'm so pleased for you.   Lucy's a great girl."   "Isn't she just?"

Harry agreed.  "Sure you want this Marriott feller?"

 "Quite sure," said Trish firmly.  "Tally-ho, then," roared Harry, 'we're on
our way.  " He made the tooting noises of a hunting horn on and off all the
way to Piccadilly, the noise the car was making not being enough for him.
Alien was working at the bench and Mr Nance was looking after the shop's
customers.  Trade had been slow that day, and Mr Nance had made coffee and
brought it to the workroom.  They were just finishing it when the shop's
doorbell rang.  Mr Nance sighed and left to see to the customer.  Alien put
his cup down and picked up his loupe.  At that moment the noise of
conversation in the shop stopped.

There was a scuffle of feet and a faint cry of

"Alien!"  from Mr Nance, which brought him to his feet, intent on discovering
what could be going on.  He got no further than the door to the shop, which
was violently thrown open as two men hurled themselves through it and
advanced on him, obviously with fell intent.  "Come on.  Sunny Jim,"

howled the larger one, 'your turn now.  " Alien put his right hand behind him
to pull off the bench the heavy pendulum of a long-case clock--it was all
that he had to defend himself against two thieves who had certainly overcome,
if not seriously hurt, poor Mr Nance.  Harry turned his motor into the alley
where Mr Nance's shop stood.  " Here we are, Trish.  " He leaped out of the
car in order to open the door for her to alight, bowing in imitation of the
footman who usually accompanied them in a carriage.  He looked around him
when she reached the ground.  " Not the best of neighbour hoods, is it, Trish?
I'll see you in.  "

"No need," protested Trish.  "I've been here several times before.

It's a backwater.  " Harry picked up his stick and offered Trish his arm.

"Won't take no for an answer, Trish.  I shan't leave you until I'm sure that
all's well."  Trish thought his sense of chivalry was exaggerated--a
judgement which she was to smile about ruefully in a few moments' time.  He
gallantly opened the shop door for her and followed her in.  They could both
immediately see that something was very wrong.

Everything on the counter and the shelves behind it had been swept to the
floor.  A moaning Mr Nance lay propped up against the counter's wooden front.
"Alien," he said feebly.  At the same time they could hear the noise -of a
scuffle going on in the room behind the shop.

"What the devil!"  exclaimed Harry.  "Stand back, Trish."  He advanced
through the door, his stick firmly clutched in his right hand.  Trish,
disobeying orders, followed him.  Inside the workshop two men were
systematically attacking Alien.  One of them, who had his back to them, was
holding him, the other was striking him.  Trish thought later that it had
been providential that it was quite plain who was the victim, for Harry, his
blood up, his stick held high bellowed,

"Let that man go," and advanced on the thug who was striking Alien.  The thug
turned round to face Harry, who promptly hit him on the temple with the
rhino's head with such force that he fell senseless to the ground.  The man
holding Alien released him in order to attack Harry, who was shouting

"Tally-ho," and waving his stick as though it were a Zulu knob kerry.  Alien,
dazed and bruised, one eye swollen and black, picked up the pendulum which
had earlier been ripped from his grasp by the man lying on the floor and
struck his attacker with it.

 Reeling under the blow, and faced by two young men advancing on him, both
armed, even if with unlikely weapons, the thug raised his hands and shrieked,

"Give over, guvs.  I don't want no more."  Reluctantly Harry lowered his
stick.  Alien raised the pendulum menacingly and said,

"Lie down on your face on the floor."  The thug, thoroughly cowed, did as he
was told.  Alien laid the pendulum on the bench and picked up a length of
strong cord.  "Keep an eye on the other chap; he might wake up," he told
Harry, and knelt down beside the thug to pinion him first by the wrists and
then the ankles.  Now that the battle was safely over, Trish ran back into
the shop to look after Mr Nance.  Alien kicked the thug over with his foot.
"Who paid you to do this?"  he snarled, thrusting his face into the thug's.
"It was Norris, wasn't it?  Were you meant to kill me?"  The thug's face
paled.  Their patsy--as Norris had described him--was on to them and no
mistake.

Norris had told them that he would be unable to defend himself and would have
no idea who was attacking him or why he was being attacked.

And here he was, shouting Norris's name.  The game was well and truly up.
"Yes... no..."  he blurted out.  "Well, which is it, damn you?"

Alien had caught the thug by the throat and on his face was the rictus of
savagery.  Harry Norman gazed at him in fascination.  However had he come to
call this man a solemn lump?  "Leave go, guy," came out in a muffled moan,
'and I'll tell your.  " Alien loosened his hold.  " Go on.  "

"It's yes..."  babbled the unfortunate thief, tenderly feeling his bruised
throat.

"I'll turn Queen's evidence, that I will.  Norris said the job would be easy.
Little he knew."

"And who paid Norris to hire you--and follow me?"

"Don't know.   And how did you twig you wuz being' follered?"   "Never mind
that.   I'm going to call the police and you may tell them what you do know.
Your name, please--and his."   "Collins, Joe Collins, and his moniker's Bob
Jackson," he uttered in a despairing wail.   Who could have guessed that
Norris's patsy would turn out to be such a hard man?   Alien rose to his feet
and walked over to where Harry was guarding the still unconscious Jackson,
but not before giving Collins a savage kick in the ribs.

"That's for what you did to Mr Nance--and it's a lot less than you deserve.
Norman," he said turning to Harry, 'we've a great deal to do.

We have to send for a doctor, the police and Sir Gerard Schuyler, in that
order.  If you keep guard over this pair of beauties I'll go round the corner
to Hatchard's, who have a telephone.  The manager knows me and will let me
use it.  While I'm gone best tie up number two in case he comes round--use
the cord on the workbench.  " He thought for a moment, and then gave number
two a kick to match his partner's.  Harry was gazing at him in awe, not only
because of Alien's short way with his attackers but for the speed with which
he was organising things.

"I say, Marriott," he shot out admiringly,

"I had you all wrong.  I thought you a proper molly, and no mistake.  You and
Trish will make a splendid pair and--' Alien stopped him with a raised hand.
" Cut it out," he said brutally.  " We've no time to waste in chuntering.  I
need to look after Trish and Mr Nance before I go to Hatchard's.  " This
harsh rebuke only served to increase Harry's admiration for Alien: it
reminded him of his mother's short way with him.

 Trish was holding Mr Nance in her arms.  He had insisted on trying to talk
to her, even though she had told him gently to keep quiet in order to save
his strength.  "Alien," he kept gasping.  "What are those monsters doing to
Alien?"  Once the noise of battle from the workroom had died down, Trish had
laid him gently back on the floor before peering round the door to see what
on earth was going on.  A few minutes passed before she returned to the
agitated Mr Nance.  "I shouldn't worry about Alien," she told him cheerfully.
"It's more a case of what he and Harry are doing to the monsters than the
other way round."  Her reassuring message was borne out a few moments later
when Alien came in and knelt down beside her.  If she was shocked by his
bruised face and black eye she didn't let it show, only pressed his hand and
whispered,

"I don't think that he's badly hurt.  But he does need a doctor.  He was more
worried about you than about himself."  Mr Nance, who had closed his eyes on
hearing that Alien was safe, now opened them.  "All's well?"  he whispered.
"Very well," said Alien, 'except for you.  I'm going to send for a doctor.  "
" For your poor face, too," said Mr Nance.  " Oh, that's nothing," said
Alien, rising--something he found painful.  He thought that one of his ribs
might even be broken, but he had no time to worry about that with so much to
do.  " You'll be safe while I'm gone.  Norman is guarding the two brutes who
tried to kill us--we tied them up between us.  I'm afraid I damaged the
pendulum of Bum- side's clock beyond repair, but that's a minor worry.  " He
smiled at Trish.  " I haven't time to ask how you managed to arrive at
exactly the crucial moment, and with Harry Norman, too.  We can talk about
that later.  "

"Later' took a long time to arrive.  First the doctor came and tut-tutted
over Mr Nance.  Then a local copper arrived, and after that a Detective
Inspector from Scotland Yard, with a Sergeant who stood over Joe and drawled
at him,

"Not again, Collins.  Who's been paying you to misbehave this time?"  Out it
all came: Norris's name, and the assurance that neither he nor Jackson knew
for whom Norris was working.

"Someone with a lot of tin, that's for sure.  It's all down to Norris, that
it is."

"Norris, eh?"   said the DI, staring meaningfully at his partner.   "The
bent ex-copper at it again.   When we've done with these bright beauties
we'll have a word with him."   Jackson, who was now conscious again, was,
like Collins only too anxious to put the blame to Norris.   "He told us all
wrong," he kept saying, as though that excused them, 'said he was a patsy.
" He pointed at Alien.   " Some patsy--and that posh friend of his was as
bad.   Hit me with his stick, he did.   Could have done for me.   " " Aye,"
said Collins eagerly, 'and that un' kicked me in the ribs, didn't he?"   he
pointed at Alien too.

"And me tied up and unable to defend me self.  Kicked Bob, too."  Both
policemen looked at Alien's damaged face.  The doctor had already told them
of his badly bruised torso, and Harry, on being questioned, had revealed that
he had come upon the two thieves thrashing him.

"Resisting you, was he?"  said the Sergeant.  "I suppose I ought to run him
in, too, for defending himself."  This sally set both policemen laughing.
After that Alien took them on one side and informed them that it was possible
that the two men had not been engaged in a simple act of robbery, but were
unknowingly part of a larger conspiracy.  "I have sent for Sir Gerard
Schuyler, my employer," he told them, 'and I would prefer to wait until he
arrives before  I say anything more.  We shouldn't have to wait long for
him--and he can corroborate my somewhat improbable story.  " Gerard's name,
that of a friend of the Prince of Wales, was powerful enough to gain the
Inspector's agreement and Gerard arrived in his motor, to find the police.
Alien, Harry Norman and Trish in the kitchen, drinking tea and eating cream
buns fetched from Fortnum's round the corner by Harry.

"It's better than a play," Harry kept saying excitedly.  He had already
promised the police the use of his new motor should they require it.

"Wait until I tell Mother about this," was another repeated statement.

Mr Nance was safe in bed, being looked after by a nurse for whom the doctor
had sent.  The two miscreants were locked up in Mr Nance's outhouse--minus
tea and buns.  Gerard, Alien and the police retired to the workroom with
Collins and Jackson, from which Gerard emerged a few moments later to suggest
that Harry might like to take Trish back to Park Lane.  To soften the blow he
kissed Trish on the cheek and shook Harry warmly by the hand.  "Your
behaviour has been exemplary," he told them both.  "I understand that the
police already have your statements and will act upon them."  Trish said
anxiously,

"You will look after Alien, won't you?  He's rather more hurt than he's
prepared to admit."

"And you don't want my motor?"  asked Harry sadly.  Gerard shook his head.
"They have the use of mine, and I think that I know where we shall be going
next."

"I should like to speak to Alien alone before I go," said Trish, in the most
determined voice which she could summon up.   "After all, I came here to see
him, and so far we've only said about two words to one another."   "Very
well.   Harry may wait for you in his motor and I'll send Alien in here.
But don't keep him too long, mind.   We've work to do."   Trish was shocked
all over again when she saw Alien's face.   The bruises had spread and looked
more horrid than ever.   His smile for her was unchanged, though.   "You've
been a brave girl," he said, kissing her.   "Who, me?   I didn't do anything.
You and Harry did it all."

"Yes, Harry was a real brick, wasn't he?  But so were you.  You didn't run
about screaming and having hysterics, and you looked after poor Mr Nance
until the doctor came.  He was telling me how kind and loving you were while
Harry and I polished off those brutes in the workroom."

Trish shivered.  "Wasn't it lucky that Harry arrived at Park Lane just as I
was about to call a cab, which would have taken much longer to reach you than
Harry's motor did?  I hate to think what I might have found here if I'd
arrived after those monsters had--' She had difficulty in not breaking down.
Delayed shock was setting in.  Alien took her into his arms and kissed her,
not passionately, but gently.

"Shush, my darling.  Harry did call and everything was OK.  Don't think about
what might have happened, because it didn't."  Trish gave him a watery smile.
"I'm being stupid, aren't I?  And I promised Gerard that I wouldn't keep
you.  Don't do anything dangerous, will you?"

"Oh, I think that the danger is almost over.   If Gerard and the police
permit, I'll tell you all about it when I return to Park Lane."   "But I
thought that you had been dismissed..."   He kissed her again.   "Never mind
that now.   Explanations later."   She kissed him back, and he carried the
memory of it into the room where Gerard and the police were laying plans to
trap both Norris and Jordan Foster, his paymaster.

Chapter Fourteen Trish and Torry were seated in the drawing room when
Gerard and Alien arrived back in Park Lane.  They had just taken tea.

Torry had earlier told the butler that she was not At Home.  Torry exclaimed
when she saw Alien's face.  Not only because of his black eye and his bruises
but because weariness and tension had taken their toll of him.  Around his
bruises his face was white.  "What in the world has been happening to you.
Alien?  Gerard, are you in any way responsible for this?"  Alien shook his
head, but Gerard said,

"To be truthful, my dear, in a way, yes."

"Before either of us offer you any kind of explanation of that I'm sure that
you will be pleased to learn that Alien is back with us as my secretary, but
only until he has trained Barstow for me.   After that, having agreed with
Grimthorpe that I am wasting his talents, he is going to be my second-
in-command at Schuyler's--I can't have him going to Rothschild's, can I?
Wouldn't do at all.   Bad for the company and bad for the family."   He
walked over to the sideboard and poured brandy for himself.

"Before we go any further I would like to toast my new aide.

Schuyler's has become much more complex of recent years, and I can do with
someone at my side who is as bold a buccaneer as I am but is also as clever
at using the law to his own advantage.  - "To my cousin Mr Alien Marriott.
Welcome to the Board."  And he raised his glass high before drinking its
contents down.  "Now, my dear, let us adjourn to our private quarters and
leave Alien and Trish together.  We both promise to tell our women as much of
our recent adventures as will make sense to them.  Trish has doubtless
informed you of what passed at Mr Nance's this afternoon I shall add to that,
as will Alien.  Come, my love."  He threw a sly grin in Trish and Alien's
direction before leaving with Torry on his arm.  "I have no doubt, Marriott,
that you will also have much to say to Trish which will be to her liking once
you have satisfied her quite natural curiosity about our goings on.  I wish
you all the best."

"What in the world...?"   began Trish, once he had gone.   Alien started to
laugh.   "That was Gerard's way of saying that I may propose to you.   I
shall immediately disobey him by doing that at once, instead of waiting, as
he ordered."   He went down on one knee.   "For the second time.   Miss
Courtney, will you marry me?   Your guardian has already blessed our union."
Bewildered, Trish said,

"I

thought that my guardian had dismissed you in disgrace; now you tell me he is
willing for us to marry.  Of course I will marry you I've already said I will
but only if you will tell me what is going on and why someone should wish to
kill you and Mr Nance.  " " Oh, they didn't want to kill Mr Nance.  They
wanted him left alive to tell the tale of how two thieves burst in,  robbed
the shop, and then killed me when I tried to stop them.  Only your and
Harry's timely arrival thwarted them.  " " But why should anyone want to do
that?  And why did Gerard pretend to dismiss you?  " " Oh, it's a long story,
which I shall try to shorten.  Briefly, Jordan Foster, through Robert Hall,
Gerard's late secretary, was robbing Gerard and stealing his secrets.  Hall
found out, by accident, that I was on to him and was on the verge of
uncovering his clever tricks.  Foster decided to make it look as though I was
the one who was robbing and cheating Gerard, and manufactured faked evidence
to prove it.  He might have succeeded, only Gerard, for a variety of reasons,
had begun to trust me.  "He trusted me even more when I showed him what Hall
had done.  I was also able to tell him that Mr Nance had found out that I was
being followed by a man named Norris whom Foster was employing to keep an eye
on me.  We both thought that Gerard's appearing to dismiss me might keep him
quiet while Gerard investigated him and Hall, which he began to do
immediately after I left.  " Are you still with me?  " " I think I am," said
Trish doubtfully.  " It's such a complicated business.

Was Mr Foster really as dishonest as that?  " " Even more so, for when he
suspected that Gerard was not convinced of my guilt, even though he had
apparently dismissed me, he decided to have me killed, because he thought
that it might stop Gerard pursuing the matter further.  Hence the attack
today.  In a sense we had made me bait.  We didn't foresee that Foster would
stoop to murder.  " Trish shuddered.  " What happened after Harry and I left?
" " We called on Norris.  Gerard knew his address because, ironically
enough, the cream of the sorry joke is that Gerard had engaged Norris to work
for him to try to find the swindler!  That had made it even easier for Foster
to feed false information about me to Gerard.  When the police arrived and
Norris found out that the game was up, he fell apart.  Writing lying reports
about me for Gerard was one thing, but a botched attempt at murder was quite
another.  Of course, if they had murdered me he would have been as happy as a
sand-boy!  Like the two thugs you interrupted today, once caught, he ratted
on the man who had employed him and confirmed my--and Gerard's--belief that
it was Foster.  " Trish was fascinated.  " Harry was right.  This is better
than a play.  What happened next?  " " Gerard drove us all to Foster's
office, where we and the police confronted him.  He denied everything until
the police produced Norris!  They began shouting at one another.  It was
quite a scene.  Then they dragged in Collins and Jackson, whom Norris had
hired on Foster's orders, and the fat was truly in the fire.  After that the
police read the Riot Act and arrested them all.  Of course, Norris and the
other two were confessing like mad, hoping to turn Queen's evidence.  " He
began to laugh.  " Gerard thinks that Foster was in a bad way financially and
that led him to undertake such desperate measures.  The police impounded all
his books and papers, and expert auditors will be going over them.  There was
a bit of a scuffle before they left and Foster got a bloody nose.  " " Well,
he ought to get more than that!  " exclaimed Trish indignantly.

"Plotting to murder you is no joke."

"True, and he might even swing for it."   Alien laughed again.   Trish
wondered what was pleasing him so much.   He did not tell her what had
actually happened there in Foster's swank office after Norris and the others
had been formally arrested and taken away.   Foster, realising that he was
cornered and about to be arrested himself, had begun to shriek and swear at
them.

 "Damn you, Schuyler," he had roared at Gerard.  "You're going to come out
of this smelling of roses, while a poor devil like me who has only committed
half of your villainies gets caught the first time I do anything wrong."  He
swung on Alien.  "As for you, Marriott, Schuyler's prig of a cousin, I can
only wish that Norris's men had done the job they were hired for--and
finished off that old fool of a clock maker as well."  It was Alien who
responded to him, not Gerard.  The fury which had been building in him since
he had seen Mr Nance lying wounded in Irish's arms finally exploded into
action.  "Prig, am I?"  he exclaimed, without raising his voice.  "Well, take
this from a prig on behalf of Mr Nance, and enjoy it."  And he struck Foster
as hard as he could in the face, so that he fell on the floor, blood pouring
from his nose.

"Take witness," he shrieked when he could speak again, 'that this man
wantonly struck me.  I demand that he be arrested for assault.  " The
Sergeant hauled him up from the floor and slipped the handcuffs on him.

"Shouldn't have been trying to resist arrest, should you, sir?  We'll all
bear witness that the young gent struck you when you was trying to escape.
Ain't that the truth?"  he asked, appealing to Gerard and the Inspector.
"And I warn you, sir, if you don't stop shouting and swearing at us, I'll
give you a four penny one as well."  Regretfully, Alien thought, that was one
part of the story which he couldn't tell Trish.  He remembered what Gerard
had said to him when they were walking downstairs to Gerard's motor, while a
furious Foster had been hauled away in a Black Maria which was being driven
to Hall's home for him to be added to the list of failed conspirators in
gaol.  "Yes, you really are like me.  Alien, and you have the advantage that
you look as mild as milk, while everyone can see what a tough I am.  That
was a splendid facer you planted on Foster.  Who taught you to do that?"
"Oh, I visit a gym occasionally to keep in trim.  I can't say that I'm sorry
I lost my temper, but it was rather a rash thing to do."  Back in the
present, he kissed Trish again.

And again.  Where all that would have ended, Trish wasn't sure.  She was
enjoying herself too much to care.  There was a knock on the door.

They both sprang apart and a footman entered.  "Sir Gerard asked me to tell
you that dinner has been put back half an hour.  Oh, and I was to be sure to
inform Mr Marriott that the butler has been dismissed without notice and
without references.  He is to leave the premises by lunch-time tomorrow.
That is all."  And he bowed himself out again.  "What.  was all that about?"
asked a bewildered Trish.  "You mean about dinner being late?"  Alien said
naughtily.  "No, silly, about the butler..."  Light dawned, and she struck
her forehead theatrically.

"Oh, of course--he was helping Mr Hall, wasn't he?  That was what I
overheard.  Gerard must have dismissed him for being a spy in the camp."
"True.  We're not sure whether he helped Hall in his frauds, but he did spy
on me and Gerard.  The police will pick him up here first thing in the
morning and take him in for questioning.  Incidentally, it was you telling me
that you had overheard him and Hall talking, and Hall offering him money,
which confirmed my belief that something criminal was going on.  In a way you
were indirectly responsible for everything which followed."

"But why didn't you tell Gerard about your suspicions then?"   Alien sighed.
"At that point Gerard, for reasons which I  won't go into, didn't trust
me, and to cast suspicion on Hall, whom he did trust, when I hadn't any real
evidence to offer him would have done no good at all.   Gerard is very
hardheaded and wouldn't accept or act on what he would think of as
whim-whams.   Later, things changed."

If he were going to be Gerard's right-hand man then loyalty demanded that he
could not tell anyone--even Trish--of the cruel bargain which Gerard had
struck with him after his father's death.  Particularly when he now had to
recognise that in Gerard's place he might well have done exactly the same!
Trish shivered.  "It's all over, though, isn't it?"

"Not quite.  There's Foster's trial to come--but, yes, basically it's over,
and you and I can get married with every- one's blessing."

"Instead of no one's," said Trish irrepressibly.  "I was quite looking
forward to a secret wedding.  Now I suppose we shall be compelled to have all
the trimmings--and what a time that will take."

"Impatient, are you?"   said Alien, taking her in his arms again.   "Well, I
was beginning to enjoy myself immensely just now when the messenger of doom
came in with his news.   Do you think, as actors say, that we could reprise
the last bit before the door opened--or have you forgotten your lines?"   "I
can't remember that I actually used any lines when I was busy pleasing you a
few moments ago.   There was no room for words, was there?"   "Not really,"
agreed Trish happily.   "I suppose that we shall have to restrain ourselves
sufficiently for me to appear in white at the wedding without actually
wearing a lie."   "It might be arranged.

Miss Courtney--but with extreme difficulty if you look at me like that.  " "
Then I'll shut my eyes.  "

"Even worse," groaned Alien, remembering that dinner, duty and every other
damned thing in the world lay in wait for them before they were safely in bed
together and might do as they pleased.  Nevertheless they had a joyful few
minutes before all the 'd's which Alien had dreaded brought them back to the
busy, demanding world again.  "Do you think,"

panted Trish, when she was reorganising her clothing so that she became
respectable again, 'that it will be any easier in the twentieth century for
engaged couples to enjoy themselves properly before the wedding ceremony?  "
" I think that you mean improperly there, my darling,"

replied Alien, rebuttoning his shirt.  "But, yes, I believe it will.

Even if we don't form a Society to press for it, someone else is sure to.
Free thinking is all the rage these days.  " " But in the meantime we burn, as
the old poets said," Trish sighed.  " I could never understand what that
meant, but now I know.  " " Not long now, though," whispered Alien, kissing
her chastely on the cheek now.  " Not long.  "

"Marriage--or the twentieth century?"

 "Both," said Alien, and he kissed her again.

Epilogue New Year's Eve, Sunday, December 31st 1899 1 rish Marriott had
stars in her eyes, Tom Moidore noted indulgently when he entered the drawing
room where Gerard's guests were waiting for dinner to be announced.  That
unassuming gentleman Alien Marriott must be a dab hand at pleasing his wife
if her expression was anything to go by.  Was there no end to the list of his
talents?  Gerard had been lyrical about his new right-hand man when Tom had
lunched with him at his club two days earlier.  "I never thought I'd find
anyone who thought and acted as exactly as I would--I can safely leave things
to him which I've always had to look after myself."  He had had the
opportunity to thank Alien for his hard work and co-operation by asking his
mother, Alicia, and her new husband, Frederick Hurst, to come over from the
States to attend Alien and Trish's wedding, on December 6th, and then spend
the New Year at Park Lane.  They had been only too happy to agree.  Alicia
approved of Trish and Alien approved of Frederick Hurst, who was a steady
gentleman, the opposite of his late father.  "Happy?"  Tom asked quietly,
after making his way to  where Trish sat, not far from Alicia, who was
talking eagerly to Torry--another new friend.  "Supremely," Trish said with a
little sigh, and then, with a touch of her old mischief,

"I shouldn't be enthusiastic about being married, should I?  It's not done.
I suppose I ought to drawl " so-so," but I can't."  Tom's laugh was genuine.
"Be your charming self, my dear.  I can't offer you better advice than that."
"For that you shall be a guest at my first dinner party, when we have a home
of our own in which to give one.  At the moment Gerard is allowing us the use
of a suite of rooms while we house-hunt.  He's been unbelievably kind, not
only to us but to Mr Nance.  He had him brought here to be looked after when
he had a relapse shortly after he had been attacked, and he also arranged for
a manager to run the shop in his absence.  He is Mr Justus Parker, an old
friend of Alien's, whom I met at Greenwich.  " Mr Nance was naturally
disappointed when Alien accepted Gerard's offer and didn't take over the shop
from him, but Alien persuaded Gerard to buy it instead, so that Mr Nance
could go back there when he was fit again.  Alien will use the workshop to
relax in occasionally.  "Mr Nance is here tonight--another kindness from
Gerard.  Torry says that the older he gets, the more sentimental he grows.  I
think it's her influence."

"Undoubtedly," said Tom.   "On the other hand she wasn't sentimental when
Jordan Foster shot himself just before he was due in court."   "No, indeed.
She simply said,

"Well, that's saved the expense of a trial which could have had only one
ending, hasn't it?"  On the other hand she did approve of Gerard paying poor
abandoned Mrs Foster's passage back to America.  " " True,"

remarked Tom grimly.  "Once the police investigations began they uncovered
more and more of his villainies."

"Who's talking about villainies?"   said Alien, smiling.   He had been
speaking to Harry Norman, who was present with his new wife, nee Lucy
Chalfont.

His mother was not with them: strong-minded Lucy had banished her to the
Scottish fastnesses, saying in her pretty voice,

"I'm sure that now Harry is safely married and he has me to look after him
you'll be only too happy to devote your time to caring for your poor
husband."

"We were commenting on Jordan Foster's villainies," said Tom, 'but not any
more.   Not tonight.   Tonight is a night for celebrations, even if the
Transvaal war has muted them a little.   " " True," said Alien, and for a
moment the three of them were silent.   Many of the families they knew had
fathers, sons, brothers, husbands and other relatives in the army in South
Africa, where the war was not going well.   One result had been that public
festivities were very limited.   Instead private dinner parties were being
held, and at midnight Gerard's guests would be on the terrace of his Park
Lane home to hear the church bells ring in the new century.   If Tom thought
that Trish was not the only one of the newly-wed Marriotts who was enjoying
being married, he kept it to himself.   Both that, and the security of his
new relationship with Gerard, had softened Alien's previously austere
expression a little.

"You're not to look sad tonight," Torry told her guests.  "I know that the
war news is bad, and it's a pity the new century has to begin in strife, but
I think that we can be allowed to greet it with some enthusiasm so long as we
don't overdo things."  A sentiment with which all her hearers agreed.
"Happy?"  Alien whispered in his wife's ear, echoing Tom Moidore's earlier
question.

 She turned her shining eyes on him.  "You know I am."

"So noted," he said, giving her his small smile which had the power to turn
her heart over.   Her wedding night had been a revelation to Trish in more-
ways than one.   She had hoped that Alien would be gentle with her--indeed,
she had never doubted that he would be.   She had thought that her own
innocence might be a drawback which would prevent them from achieving true
fulfilment on their first night together.   No such thing!   What she had not
bargained for was that once the first surprise of marital lovemaking was
over, eased for her by the kindness of Alien's loving and patient initiation,
they would discover a vein of abandoned passion which she would not, could
not have believed beforehand that they would experience--and she would share.
It was as though they had awakened the tiger in each other as sensation
followed sensation.   Even now, in the drawing room, surrounded by other
people, far from the marriage bed, merely to think of it set Trish's heart
bumping.   To calm herself she tried to think of other things.
Unfortunately she looked at Alien and was lost again!   Who would have
thought that this quiet, self-controlled man could take them both to such a
peak of ecstasy.   The daylight man and the night-time man were two separate
beings.   Or were they?   After all, when it was needed Alien showed not only
courage but a fierceness of purpose which was beginning to surprise not only
her but, from what she had heard him say, Gerard as well.   They sat opposite
to each other at the dinner table.   Torry had put Mr Nance on Trish's left,
to ensure that he would have a friendly face to talk to, and Frederick Hurst
on her right.   "I had never thought to find myself here," Mr Nance 
whispered to Trish.   "It is a far cry from my kitchen at the back of the
shop, is it not?"   "Some of my happiest days were spent there with you and
Alien," Trish told him truthfully.   "We don't really need damask cloths,
fine china and priceless glass to enjoy ourselves, do we?"   She looked
around the splendid table.   "Not that I don't enjoy all this magnificence; I
do.   But I wouldn't want to live like this every night.   I'm looking
forward to being in my own little home with Alien and entertaining you as you
have frequently entertained me."   This cheered up Mr Nance no end.   He had
been a little daunted by the grand company, even though Tom Moidore had
talked kindly to him before dinner.   He said little but listened attentively
to the conversation of those around him.   He had already realised what a
hard man Gerard Schuyler was, that he was also clever and shrewd, and that he
loved his beautiful wife dearly.   He liked the Hursts as well.   They were
tactful enough--unlike the Fosters--not to talk about the twentieth century
being an American one.   Gerard was laughing about an old number of Black-
wood's Magazine which someone had given him to read.   In mock Gibbonian
prose it prophesied the decline and fall of the British Empire, which it
attributed to a variety of reasons including the rise of the bicycle, which
was a symbol of the nation's degradation since it meant that people were
preferring a mechanical toy to a living creature--the horse.   "Oh, there are
always those who prophesy doom when things change," said Tom Moidore
robustly.   "I have seen an over-great love of sport by the working man given
as another sign of decline.   Since The Times sees fit to include the
Football League Table in its august pages we can scarcely suppose that it is
only the working man who is  interested in the game.   On the other hand I
am inclined to agree with those who consider that the recent sharp rise in
crime is due to lenient magistrates and judges."   This started a series of
lively discussions around the table to which Frederick Hurst made some shrewd
contributions.   Gerard, having started several hares on their way, quietly
drank down his wine and remarked sotto voce to Lord Rainsborough that there
had been at least two good pieces of news this week.   "Oh, and what were
they?"   asked m'lord eagerly.   "Why, that the Bank Rate remains at six per
cent and that stocks in Anglo-American Telegraph have risen," replied Gerard,
in what Alien had come to recognise as his teasing voice.   "Oh, business,"
said m'lord a trifle dismissively, much to Alien's amusement.   If Trish had
been nearer to him he would have winked at her.   Discussion then turned to a
variety of society scandals which were exercising Mayfair and Belgravia and
which concerned people of whom Mr Nance had vaguely heard, but in the
pleasant haze which good wine and food produced he allowed the sound of
voices to wash over his head, speaking only when Trish asked him if he were
enjoying himself, to tell her that he was.   After dinner the ladies and
gentlemen did not separate, as was usual.   Instead they moved to a drawing
room on the second floor which opened on to a terrace which overlooked the
London scene.   The ladies had brought their fur wraps with them and the
gentlemen their scarves, for the night was cold.   Coffee was served and the
chatter rose to a roar.

Alien sat by Trish and held her hand.  Mr Nance lay back in his chair and
dozed.  Harry and Lucy Norman held hands in another corner of the room.  A
lively argument about the Transvaal War broke out  among those who supported
it and those who thought it to be a great mistake.  Public opinion generally
was greatly divided over it.  Before the discussion could grow too heated
footmen entered carrying trays of champagne, and as though this were a signal
Gerard rose and called for order.  "Ten minutes to go," he said.  "I suggest
that when we adjourn to the terrace we take our glasses with us and toast the
new century as it arrives."  No sooner said than done.  The room slowly
emptied and, wrapped in their furs and overcoats, the company spent the last
minutes of the nineteenth century holding their glasses and continuing their
interrupted discussions.  At first Alien and Trish held hands, but later were
separated in the crush as more and more guests arrived outside.  Looking for
her, Alien noticed that Gerard had disappeared from the chattering crowd on
the balcony.  He also saw that Trish and Terry were talking animatedly to Tom
Moidore and his mother and stepfather.  Moved by a sudden impulse--a rare
thing with him--he walked through the terrace doors and back into the drawing
room.

Someone had lowered the lighting and Gerard was sitting alone in the
semi-dark, his glass of champagne before him.  He looked up at Alien and gave
him a wry smile.

"I decided to wait here until just before the fateful moment.  I have given
enough homage to the coming century this past year.  What's your excuse for
deserting the party--or haven't you got one?"  Alien sat down opposite to his
cousin.  "Now that we are alone and unlikely to be interrupted I have
something to say to you--and now is as good a time and place as any to say
it."  He didn't wait for Gerard to answer but continued, his voice as even
and steady as it always was.  "Nine years ago I came to you bankrupt and
penniless,  a pampered young man raised in luxury, the son of a wastrel
father and, what I can now admit, a spendthrift mother.  I asked you for help
for my mother and me, which you gave, but the price of it was a hard bargain
for me to swallow.  You also asked me a question which I could not then
properly answer.  What would / do if I were in your position?

My answer was that I didn't know.  I couldn't imagine myself in your
position.  "Now I am not exactly in your position, but I am, as it were, next
door to it, and I know what my answer would be if a similar untried boy from
a family with a bad record came to me asking for help.

It would be the same as yours was then to me.  "The bargain was a cruel one,
but it made me the person that I am.  What I would have been without it, I do
not know.  What I do know is that I worked and slaved day and night to be
revenged on you.  In my early, childish days with Schuyler's I had silly
dreams of ruining you--God knows how.  As I changed I came to understand that
my best revenge would be to prove you wrong in underestimating me by
achieving success by my own efforts.

Cope chose me to be your secretary because I was his best man.  I was better
than he--or you--knew.  "And when I could have taken my revenge on you by
colluding with those who were intent on ruining you, I used what I had become
to help to save Schuyler's, not ruin it.  In fairness to you, I thought that
I ought to tell you this."  He fell silent.

Gerard did not immediately speak.  Instead he picked up his glass of
champagne, raised it high and said,

"Thank you, Marriott.  Let us toast the future."  Alien clinked his glass
against Gerard's, and they emptied them together.  Gerard refilled their
glasses and walked Alien out of the room.  The crowd on the balcony, intent
on their own affairs, had noticed neither their departure nor their return.
Gerard moved over to where Tony stood.  "I missed you," she told him quietly,
taking his arm and steering him a little away from his guests.  "Now that we
have a quiet moment I have something to tell you about the coming year, and I
think that this is a suitable occasion on which to do it."  Gerard turned to
her, his face questioning.  "Something important?"

"Yes.   I learned on Friday that we are expecting another addition to the
family--who will arrive in the new century.   I have the feeling that it may
be a boy."   "Nicholas it will be, if it is, and Kitty if not," Gerard said
with all his usual energy.   "Almost," Torry answered him, smiling.   "If
it's a boy I would like his second name to be Alien.   We owe Alien Marriott
a great deal--and, after all, we scarcely deserve, what he did for us."
"True, and by the way in which he is shaping in his new post we shall owe him
more.   Nicholas Alien it shall be.   I shall be quite the patriarch before
we are finished!"   Disregarding those around them, he kissed her on the
cheek, saying,

"Clever girl!"  Irish's greeting to Alien when he joined her was equally
loving.  "Here you are at last, my darling.

Where did you go and what were you doing?  " " I was clearing up some old
business with Gerard," he told her, 'and now it's time to attend to the new."
Even as he spoke Gerard raised his glass high.  It wanted but five minutes
to midnight.  "Come," he announced, 'let us be ready to welcome in the New
Year.  " His guests stood silent and attentive.  Tom Moidore had told them
earlier that all the boats on the Thames would  hoot as the New Year
arrived.  " Unfortunately, we are too far away to hear them.  " What they did
hear as Big Ben chimed the magic midnight hour was all the church bells in
London beginning to ring in 1900.

Alien took Trish into his arms and began to kiss her.  Other husbands and
wives followed suit.  English reserve in public was briefly shattered.
"Happy New Year, my darling," he whispered into her hair, 'and let us hope
that it will be a happy new century and a happy new life together.  "