said. It will probably be desirable for me to go
away for a few weeks--that is, if Miss Driver prefers to remain at
Breysgate. Or, if she takes a short holiday, I can remain--just as she
wishes."

"I think it can all be managed, Lord Fillingford. We must try to have as
little gossip as possible--for everybody's sake."

"You don't want my help to-night?"

"Oh, no. I can get him home. He'll soon be well enough, I hope, to
understand that it's his interest to hold his tongue, and I can settle
the rest with him to-morrow. If he is inclined to make trouble----"

"I think that we can persuade him between us. If you need my help, let
me know."

"I'm much obliged to you for that." I paused for a moment. "You, I
suppose, have no business with him just now?"

He looked at me gravely. "I am informed that he has already been paid
for his services," he said. "Such services, Mr. Austin, are, as your
tone implied, not very pleasant to receive. But the greater fault seems
to lie with those whose methods make them necessary." He rose to his
feet, saying, "It'll be some time before the carriage gets back. I think
I'll start on my way and meet it. You're sure I can be of no use? No?
Then good-night, Mr. Austin."

"Good-night, Lord Fillingford."

"You will communicate with me, if necessary?"

"Yes. I don't see why it should be."

With these words we had reached the door, and I opened it. At the moment
I saw the lamps of his carriage at the gate.

"Look, the carriage is back already; it can't have taken her half the
way!"

He made no reply, and we walked quickly down the path together.

"You took Miss Driver home, Thompson?" Fillingford asked the coachman.

"No, my lord, not to Breysgate. Miss Driver wished to go to the station.
I drove there and set her down. She told me to come back here
immediately, my lord."

"To the station?" we both exclaimed, startled into an involuntary show
of surprise.

The man hesitated a little. "I--I beg pardon, my lord, but I think Miss
Driver meant to go by train. She asked me to drive quickly--and she'd
just have managed the eight-fifteen."

I looked at my watch, it was just on half-past eight.

"Perhaps she only wanted to see--somebody--off," said Fillingford, soon
recovered from his momentary lapse into a betrayal of surprise. He
turned to me. "That'll be it, Mr. Austin."

I looked at his face--there was no telling anything from it. It had
given no sign of change as he made his re