s when he comes back and finds you gone," she
said. "He'll catch the man, to the deadest certainty. He's got the
brains of the whole police force in his own head. You should have
stayed to enjoy the excitement."

Auntie, whitened and flabby-looking under her smart violet toque,
reiterated the statement that she could not have stayed another night.

"It's been a great shock. I feel as if I might never recover from it;
and I wish with all my heart I had never come," she said.

"Well, since you wish it, I wish it, too," Grace retorted, kindling.
"We must console ourselves that it has not been for long, and try to
forget all about it."

"I shall be glad to be back in my own home," Auntie said.

She looked so changed from the well-satisfied, prosperous Auntie whom
Grace had welcomed to her home two days before, that Mrs Mellish's
resentment faded as she regarded her.

"You are sure you like best to travel alone?" she asked her, with
anxious kindness.

Yes. Auntie preferred her own company. If a man got in at any of the
stations, she said, so upset were her nerves, she would certainly be
ill with the fright.

So Mrs Mellish found the guard and intimated to him that the lady
wished to be undisturbed. Auntie stopped him when, in his officious
zeal, he was about to lock the carriage door.

"I can't bear the feeling of being locked in," she said. "It makes me
lose my breath."

She leaned out of the window, and kissed her niece with more
demonstrativeness than was her custom. "You know my address if
you--want anything. Good-bye," she said.

"Good-bye," Grace said, and shook a hand at the window. "Don't forget
to eat your sandwiches--you had no breakfast, you know. You've got some
brandy-and-water in your flask, remember. Take care of yourself.
Good-bye."

"Silly old goose! Making such a fuss, at her age!" she said to herself
as she walked away. "Well, after all, it's a relief she's gone. I'm
sure I never wanted her. It was Gussie's idea, not mine."

Evidently the story of the burglary had got about. Mrs Mellish noticed
several people turning to look at her with unwonted interest as she
walked along.

On inquiring of the servants, she found the master had not returned.

On his dressing-table, as she took off her hat, she noticed a neat
little oblong parcel lying. It was addressed in Augustus's writing, "To
my darling Henry, with all his father's love."

Grace smiled to herself. "Gussie remembered the paint-box,