as surprised to see her back so early and alone.

"Tea, please, Murgatroyd!" she said.

"Yes, my lady."

She passed by him and ascended the big staircase. He heard her go into
the drawing-room and shut the door.

When, a few minutes later, he brought in the tea, she was standing by
the fire. She had taken off her big hat and laid it on a table.

"I shall want nothing more. Good night."

"Good night, my lady."

He went towards the door. When he was just going out he heard her say,
"Murgatroyd!" and turned.

"My lady!"

"Please let Cecile know I shan't want her to-night. She is not to sit up
for me. I'll manage for myself."

"Yes, my lady."

"Make it quite understood, please."

"Certainly, my lady."

He went out and shut the door.

When she was quite alone Lady Sellingworth stood for several minutes
by the fire quite still, with her head bent down and her hands folded
together. Then she went to the tea table, poured out a cup of tea, sat
down and sipped it slowly, looking into vacancy with the eyes of one
whose real gaze was turned inwards upon herself. She finished the tea,
sat still for a little while, then got up, went to the writing-table,
sat before it, took a pen and a sheet of note-paper, and began slowly to
write.

She wrote first at the top of the sheet in the left-hand corner,
"Strictly private," and underlined the words. Then she wrote:

"DEAR BERYL,--Please consider this letter absolutely private and
personal. I rely on your never speaking of it to anyone, and I ask you
to burn it directly you have read it. Although I hate more than anything
else interfering in the private affairs of another, I feel that it is
my absolute duty to send this to you. I am a very much older woman
than you--indeed, almost an old woman. I know the world very well--too
well--and I feel I can ask you to trust me when I give you a piece of
advice, however unpleasant it may seem at the moment. You were dining
to-night alone with a man who is totally unfit to be your companion, or
the companion of any decent woman. I cannot explain to you how I know
this, nor can I tell you why he is unfit to be in any reputable company.
But I solemnly assure you--I give you my word--that I am telling you the
truth. That man is a blackguard in the full acceptation of the word. I
believe you met him by chance in a studio. I am quite positive that you
know nothing whatever about him. I do. I know--"

She hesitated, leaning over t