o atrociously circumstantial," said Mr. Albany Todd.

"Yes." Sir Chichester seized upon the point. "That's the really damnable
point about it. That's real malice. This report will linger and live
long after the denial and apology are published."

Lady Splay raised her head.

"I can't imagine who can have sent in such a cowardly lie. Enemies of
us? Or enemies of Stella?"

"We can think that out afterwards, Lady Splay," said Harold Jupp. He was
of a practical matter-of-fact mind and every one turned to listen to his
suggestion. "The first thing to do is to get the report contradicted in
the evening papers."

"Of course."

There was something to be done. All grasped at the doing of it in sheer
relief--except one. For as the men rose, saying; one "I'll look after
it"; and another "No, you'd better leave it to me," Luttrell's voice
broke in upon them all, with a sort of dreadful fatality in the quiet
sound of it.

"Where is Mrs. Croyle now?" he asked, and he was as white as the
tablecloth in front of him.

There was no further movement towards the door. Slowly the men resumed
their seats. A silence followed in which person after person looked at
Stella's empty place as though an intensity of gaze would materialise
her there. Miranda was the first bravely to break through it.

"She hasn't come down yet," she said, and Millie Splay seized upon the
words.

"No, she never comes down for breakfast--never has all this week."

"Yes, that's true," returned Dennis Brown with an attempt at
cheerfulness.

"Besides--what makes--the idea--impossible," said Sir Chichester, "is
the publication this morning. There wouldn't have been time.... It's
clearly an atrocious piece of malice." He was speaking with an obvious
effort to convince himself that the monstrous thing was false. But he
collapsed suddenly and once more discomfort and silence reigned in the
room.

"Stella's not well," Millie Splay took up the tale. "That's why she is
seldom seen before twelve. Those headaches of hers----" and suddenly she
in her turn broke off. She leaned forward and pressed the electric bell
upon the tablecloth beside her. That small trivial action brought its
relief, lightened the vague cloud of misgiving which since Luttrell had
spoken, had settled upon all.

"You rang, my lady," said Harper in the doorway.

"Yes, Harper. We were making some plans for a picnic to-day and we
should like to know if Mrs. Croyle will join us. Can you find ou