his chair. 'Will you come
and say good-bye?'

Mr. Baxendale jumped up.

'Going? Leaving?'

His wife nodded.

'Why? What is it? You haven't quarrelled with her about the
prayer-meetings?'

'No. It's a fancy of hers, that's all. Come along; she's only twenty
minutes to catch the train.'

When they reached the drawing-room, Beatrice was not there. Upon Mrs.
Baxendale's withdrawal she had gone to Wilfrid's door and knocked at it.
Wilfrid was pacing about in thought. It surprised him to see who his
visitor was; yet more, when she advanced to him with her hand extended,
saying a simple 'Good-bye.'

'Good-bye? Wherefore?'

Her attire explained. Beatrice possessed the beauty of form and face
which makes profit of any costume; in the light-brown cape, and hat to
match, her tall, lithe figure had a womanly dignity which suited well
with the unsmiling expressiveness of her countenance. The 'good-bye' was
uttered briefly and without emphasis, as one uses any insignificant form
of speech.

Wilfrid resolved at once to accept her whim; after all, it was but
another instance of frequent eccentricities.

'Who is going to the station with you?' he asked.

'No one. I hate partings on the platform.'

She moved away almost as far as the door, then turned again.

'You will be in town before going back to Oxford?'

Wilfrid hesitated.

'Oh, never mind,' she said; and was gone.

Ten minutes later Wilfrid went to the drawing-room. Mr. and Mrs.
Baxendale were talking together; they became silent as he entered.

'Has Miss Redwing gone?' he asked.

'She took leave of you, didn't she?' replied the lady.

'Yes. But it was So unprepared for, I half thought it might be a joke.'

'Oh, she's fond of these surprises,' Mrs. Baxendale said, in a tone of
good-natured allowance. 'On the whole I sympathise with her; I myself
prefer not to linger over such occasions.'

Later in the day Mrs. Baxendale drove out to Banbrigg, this time alone.
On her return, she sought Wilfrid and found him in his room. There was
concern on her face.

'I have heard something very painful from Mrs. Hood,' she began. 'It
seems that Emily is in ignorance of her father's death.'

Wilfrid looked at her in astonishment.

'I told you,' Mrs. Baxendale pursued, 'that she had not been altogether
well just before it happened, but it now appears that the dreadful
incident of her entering the room just when the body was brought in must
have taken place when she