nd only for a moment. He is sure to know all the
strangers at his hotel, is he not? I want to ask him some questions.
Wenna, will you go at once and bid him come to see me for a moment?"

"Mother!" Wenna said. How could she go to the hotel with such a
message?

"Well, send a note to him, Wenna--send him a note by the girl down
stairs. What harm is there in that?"

"Lie down, then, mother," said the girl calmly, "and I will send a
message to Mr. Trelyon."

She drew her chair to the table, and her cheeks crimsoned to think of
what he might imagine this letter to mean when he got the envelope in
his hands. Her fingers trembled as she wrote the date at the head of
the note. Then she came to the word "Dear," and it seemed to her that
if shame were a punishment, she was doing sufficient penance for her
indiscretion of that morning. Yet the note was not a compromising one.
It merely said--

"DEAR MR. TRELYON: If you have a moment to spare, my mother
would be most obliged to you if you would call on her. I hope
you will forgive the trouble.

"Yours sincerely,
WENNA ROSEWARNE."

When the young man got that note--he was just entering the hotel when
the servant arrived--he stared with surprise. He told the girl he
would call on Mrs. Rosewarne directly. Then he followed her.

He never for a moment doubted that this note had reference to his own
affairs. Wenna had told her mother what had happened. The mother
wished to see him to ask him to cease visiting them. Well, he was
prepared for that. He would ask Wenna to leave the room. He would
attack the mother boldly, and tell her what he thought of Mr.
Roscorla. He would appeal to her to save her daughter from the
impending marriage. He would win her over to be his secret ally and
friend; and while nothing should be done precipitately to alarm Wenna
or arouse her suspicions, might not these two carry the citadel of her
heart in time, and hand over the keys to the rightful lord? It was a
pleasant speculation: it was at least marked by that audacity that
never wholly forsook Master Harry Trelyon. Of course he was the
rightful lord, ready to bid all false claimants, rivals and pretenders
Beware!

And yet, as he walked up to the house, some little tremor of anxiety
crept into his heart. It was no mere game of brag in which he was
engaged. As he went into the parlor Wenna stepped quietly by him, her
eyes downcast, and he knew that all he cared to look forwar