the truth, on your side, first. Where is Sir
Patrick? Is he really out, as his servant told me?"

"Yes. He is out with the farm bailiff. You have taken us all by
surprise. You wrote that we were to expect you by the next train."

"When does the next train arrive? It is eleven o'clock now."

"Between one and two."

"Sir Patrick will not be back till then?"

"Not till then."

"Where is Mr. Brinkworth?"

"My husband?"

"Your husband--if you like. Is he out, too?"

"He is in the smoking-room."

"Do you mean the long room, built out from the back of the house?"

"Yes."

"Come down stairs at once with me."

Blanche advanced a step--and drew back. "What do you want of me?" she
asked, inspired by a sudden distrust.

Lady Lundie turned round, and looked at her impatiently.

"Can't you see yet," she said, sharply, "that your interest and my
interest in this matter are one? What have I told you?"

"Don't repeat it!"

"I must repeat it! I have told you that Arnold Brinkworth was privately
at Craig Fernie, with Miss Silvester, in the acknowledged character of
her husband--when we supposed him to be visiting the estate left him
by his aunt. You refuse to believe it--and I am about to put it to
the proof. Is it your interest or is it not, to know whether this man
deserves the blind belief that you place in him?"

Blanche trembled from head to foot, and made no reply.

"I am going into the garden, to speak to Mr. Brinkworth through the
smoking-room window," pursued her ladyship. "Have you the courage to
come with me; to wait behind out of sight; and to hear what he says with
his own lips? I am not afraid of putting it to that test. Are you?"

The tone in which she asked the question roused Blanche's spirit.

"If I believed him to be guilty," she said, resolutely, "I should _not_
have the courage. I believe him to be innocent. Lead the way, Lady
Lundie, as soon as you please."

They left the room--Blanche's own room at Ham Farm--and descended to the
hall. Lady Lundie stopped, and consulted the railway time-table hanging
near the house-door.

"There is a train to London at a quarter to twelve," she said. "How long
does it take to walk to the station?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You will soon know. Answer my question."

"It's a walk of twenty minutes to the station."

Lady Lundie referred to her watch. "There will be just time," she said.

"Time for what?"

"Come into the garden."

With that answer, she l