“What are you really doing here, Colonel Race?” I asked deliberately.

For a moment I thought he wasn’t going to answer. He was clearly taken aback, though. At last he spoke, and his words seemed to afford him a grim amusement.

“Pursuing ambition,” he said. “Just that⁠—pursuing ambition. You will remember, Miss Beddingfeld, that ‘by that sin fell the angels,’ etc. ”

“They say,” I said slowly, “that you are really connected with the government⁠—that you are in the secret service. Is that true?”

Was it my fancy, or did he hesitate for a fraction of a second before he answered?

“I can assure you, Miss Beddingfeld, that I am out here strictly as a private individual travelling for my own pleasure.”