And on such occasions one of his wife's guests would join him to chat and cheer him, for everyone felt pity for the lonely man living his life of darkness.
No one was more full of words of sympathy than James Flockart.

Gabrielle longed to warn her father of that man, but dared not do so.

There was a reason--a strong reason--for her silence.

Sir Henry had declared that he was interested in the man's intellectual conversation, and that he rather liked him, though he had never looked upon his face.

In some things the old gentleman was ever ready to adopt his daughter's advice and rely upon her judgment; but in others he was quite obstinate and treated her pointed remarks with calm indifference.
One day, at Lady Heyburn's suggestion, Gabrielle, accompanied by Flockart and another of the guests, a retired colonel, had driven over in the big car to Perth to make a call; and on their return she spent some hours in the library with her father, attending to his correspondence.
That morning a big packet of those typed reports in French had arrived in the usual registered, orange-coloured envelope, and after she had read them over to the Baronet, he had given her the key, and she had got out the code-book.