red-tiled roof of the station building.

"I promised Harry to say nothing," he said; and drawing some makeshift
of comfort from the words, repeated them, "I promised faithfully in the
Criterion grill-room."

The whistle of an engine a long way off sounded clear and shrill. It
roused Lieutenant Sutch from his gloomy meditations. He saw the white
smoke of an approaching train stretch out like a riband in the distance.

"I wonder what brings him," he said doubtfully; and then with an effort
at courage, "Well, it's no use shirking." He flicked the pony with his
whip and drove briskly down the hill. He reached the station as the
train drew up at the platform. Only two passengers descended from the
train. They were Durrance and his servant, and they came out at once on
to the road. Lieutenant Sutch hailed Durrance, who walked to the side of
the trap.

"You received my telegram in time, then?" said Durrance.

"Luckily it found me at home."

"I have brought a bag. May I trespass upon you for a night's lodging?"

"By all means," said Sutch, but the tone of his voice quite clearly to
Durrance's ears belied the heartiness of the words. Durrance, however,
was prepared for a reluctant welcome, and he had purposely sent his
telegram at the last moment. Had he given an address, he suspected that
he might have received a refusal of his visit. And his suspicion was
accurate enough. The telegram, it is true, had merely announced
Durrance's visit, it had stated nothing of his object; but its despatch
was sufficient to warn Sutch that something grave had happened,
something untoward in the relations of Ethne Eustace and Durrance.
Durrance had come, no doubt, to renew his inquiries about Harry
Feversham, those inquiries which Sutch was on no account to answer,
which he must parry all this afternoon and night. But he saw Durrance
feeling about with his raised foot for the step of the trap, and the
fact of his visitor's blindness was brought home to him. He reached out
a hand, and catching Durrance by the arm, helped him up. After all, he
thought, it would not be difficult to hoodwink a blind man. Ethne
herself had had the same thought and felt much the same relief as Sutch
felt now. The lieutenant, indeed, was so relieved that he found room for
an impulse of pity.

"I was very sorry, Durrance, to hear of your bad luck," he said, as he
drove off up the hill. "I know what it is myself to be suddenly stopped
and put aside just when on