'You are Lord Fleetwood's friend.' A slight convulsion of the frame struck the admiral's shirt-collar at his ears; it virtually prostrated him under foot of a lady so benign in overlooking the spectacle he presented.

Still, he considered; he had wits alive enough, just to perceive a duty.
'The letter was entrusted to me, Lady Fleetwood.' 'You are afraid to entrust it to the post ?' 'I was thinking of delivering it myself in town.' 'You will entrust it to me.' 'Anything on earth of my own.' 'The treasure would be valued.

This you confide to my care.' 'It is important.' 'No.' 'Indeed it is.' 'Say that it is, then.

It is quite safe with me.

It may be important that it should not be delivered.