t was correct made him always
wear like a sort of mask when in the presence of those of superior
station.

"The cab will be at the door very shortly, m'lady. If you please, Sir
Derek, a policeman has come with a message."

"A policeman?"

"With a message from Mr. Rooke."

"What do you mean?"

"I have had a few words of conversation with the constable, sir," said
Barker sadly, "and I understand from him that Mr. Rooke and Miss
Mariner have been arrested."

"Arrested! What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Rooke desired the officer to ask you to be good enough to step
round and bail them out!"

The gleam in Lady Underhill's eye became a flame, but she controlled
her voice.

"Why were Miss Mariner and Mr. Rooke arrested, Barker?"

"As far as I can gather, m'lady, Miss Mariner struck a man in the
street with a stick, and they took both her and Mr. Rooke to the
Chelsea Police Station."

Lady Underhill glanced at Derek, who was looking into the fire.

"This is a little awkward, Derek," she said suavely. "If you go to the
police-station, you will miss your train."

"I fancy, m'lady, it would be sufficient if Sir Derek were to dispatch
me with a cheque for ten pounds."

"Very well. Tell the policeman to wait a moment."

"Very good, m'lady."

Derek roused himself with an effort. His face was drawn and gloomy. He
sat down at the writing-table, and took out his cheque-book. There was
silence for a moment, broken only by the scratching of the pen. Barker
took the cheque and left the room.

"Now, perhaps," said Lady Underhill, "you will admit that I was
right!" She spoke in almost an awed voice, for this occurrence at just
this moment seemed to her very like a direct answer to prayer. "You
can't hesitate now! You _must_ free yourself from this detestable
entanglement!"

Derek rose without speaking. He took his coat and hat from where they
lay on a chair.

"Derek! You will! Say you will!"

Derek put on his coat.

"Derek!"

"For heaven's sake, leave me alone, mother. I want to think."

"Very well. I will leave you to think it over, then." Lady Underhill
moved to the door. At the door she paused for a moment, and seemed
about to speak again, but her mouth closed resolutely. She was a
shrewd woman, and knew that the art of life is to know when to stop
talking. What words have accomplished, too many words can undo.

"Good-bye."

"Good-bye, mother."

"I'll see you when you get back?"

"Yes. No. I don't