hen did she go? Here we are, sitting calmly here
and nobody thinks of asking any of these questions."

"It was Miles who told me she had not come back," said Mrs. Clinton.
"She was as surprised as I was."

"Ring the bell, Dick," said the Squire.

"I think you had better go up, mother, and see what she took with her,"
said Dick. "Don't say anything to anybody but Miles, and tell her to
keep quiet."

Mrs. Clinton went out of the room. Dick closed the door which he had
opened for her, came back to the table, and lit a cigarette. "There's
something queer, father," he said, "but we had better make it seem as
natural as possible. I shouldn't worry if I were you. I'll find out all
about it and bring her back."

"Worry!" snorted the Squire. "It's Cicely who is going to worry. If she
thinks she is going to behave like that in this house she is very much
mistaken."

Dick drove into Bathgate at twenty minutes to eleven. He always liked to
give himself plenty of time to catch a train, but hated waiting about on
the platform. So he stopped at the George Hotel and went into the hall
for a whisky-and-soda.

"Oh, good evening, Captain," said the landlord, who was behind the bar.
"If you are going back to Kencote you can save me sending over. This
letter has just come down by train." He handed Dick a square envelope
which he had just opened. On it was his name and address in Cicely's
writing, and an underlined inscription, "Please send the enclosed letter
to Kencote by special messenger as early as possible to-morrow morning."
Dick took out the inner envelope which was addressed to his mother, and
looked at it. "All right," he said, "I'll take it over," and slipped it
into the pocket of his light overcoat. He ordered his whisky-and-soda
and drank it, talking to the landlord as he did so. Only a corner of the
bar faced the hall, which was otherwise empty, and as he went out he
took the letter from his pocket and opened it.

"The devil you will!" he said, as he read the few words Cicely had
written. Then he went out and stood for a second beside his cart,
thinking.

"I'm going to Mountfield," he said as he swung the horse round and the
groom jumped up behind. The groom would wonder at his change of plan and
when he got back he would talk. If he told him not to he would talk all
the more. Wisest to say nothing at present. So Dick drove along the five
miles of dark road at an easy pace, for he could catch no train now
until seve