as not Erskine
Fanshawe who confronted her, however, but a girl clad in a tweed costume
with a cloth cap to match, on the side of which a sprig of heather was
fastened by a gold brooch fashioned in the shape of a thistle. In
bewildered surprise Claire recognised the brown eyes and round freckled
face of Janet Willoughby, whom she had believed to be hundreds of miles
away, in the highlands of Scotland.

"Just come back," Janet explained. "The weather was impossible.
Nothing but sheets of rain. I got tired, and came back to pay some
visits in the south." She hesitated, then asked a sudden question.
"Are you busy? Going anywhere at once? Could you spare half an hour?
We might have lunch together in the refreshment room!"

"Yes. No. I'd like to. I've had no lunch." Claire faltered
nervously, whereupon Janet turned to her maid, who was standing near,
dressing-bag in hand, and gave a few quick instructions.

"Get a taxi, Ross, and take all the things home. The car can wait for
me. I'll follow later."

The maid disappeared, and the two girls made their way across the open
space. Both looked nervous and ill at ease, both dreaded the coming
_tete-a-tete_, yet felt that it was a thing to be faced. Janet led the
way to a table in the farthest corner of the room, and they talked
trivialities until the ordered dishes were set on the table, and the
waiter had taken his departure. Claire had ordered coffee, and drank
eagerly, hoping that the physical refreshment would help to steady her
nerves. Janet played with her knife and fork, and said, without looking
up--

"You have left the Fanshawes, then! I heard that you were staying on."

"Yes. Yesterday I--came back."

The very lameness of the answer made it significant. Janet's freckled
face turned noticeably pale.

"Erskine went straight home after he left Scotland?"

"Yes."

"And before he arrived, you had promised to stay on?"

"Mrs Fanshawe asked me, before he came, if I could stay for another
week, and I was very glad to accept. I had no other engagement."

"And then?"

"Oh, then things were different. She didn't need company, and--and--
things happened. My friend, Miss Rhodes--"

Janet waved aside "my friend, Miss Rhodes," with an impatient hand.

"And Erskine? What did _he_ say to your leaving?"

The colour flamed in Claire's cheek; she stammered in hopeless
confusion, and, in the midst of her stammering, Janet laid both hands on
the tab