my jacket together with a shrug and buttoned it up.
After all,--what mattered it? I was in the right and I knew it.

"All right, father! Some day, I know you will be sorry."

I turned on my heel and left the armoury.

The servants were clustering at the end of the corridor, with
frightened eyes and pale faces. They opened up and shuffled uneasily
as I passed through.

"William," I said to the butler, "you had better go in there. You may
be needed."

"Yes, sir! yes, sir!" he answered, and hurried to obey.

Upstairs, in my own room, my knapsack was lying in a corner, ready for
my proposed week-end tour. Beside it, stood my golf clubs. These will
do, I found myself thinking: a knapsack with a change of linen and a
bag of golf clubs,--not a bad outfit to start life with.

I opened my purse:--fifty pounds and a few shillings. Not much, but
enough! In fact, nothing would have been plenty.

Suddenly I remembered that, before I went, I had a duty to perform.
From my inside pocket, I took the letter which Harry had written to
little, forlorn Peggy Darrol. I went to my writing desk and addressed
an envelope to Lady Rosemary Granton. I inserted Harry's letter and
sealed the envelope. As to the bearer of my message, that was easy. I
pushed the button at my bedside and, in a second, sweet little Maisie
Brant came to the door.

Maisie always had been my special favourite, and, on account of my
having pulled her out of the river when she was only seven years old, I
was hers. She had never forgotten. I cried to her in an easy,
bantering way in order to reassure her.

"Neat little Maisie, sweet little Maisie;
Only fifteen and as fresh as a Daisy."

She smiled, but behind her smile was a look of concern.

"I am going away, Maisie," I said.

"Going away, sir?" she repeated anxiously, as she came bashfully
forward.

"I won't be back again, Maisie. I am going for good."

She looked up at me in dumb disquiet.

"Maisie, Lady Rosemary Granton will be here this week-end."

"Yes, sir!" she answered. "I am to have the honour of looking after
her rooms."

I laid my hand gently on her shoulder.

"I want you to do something for me, Maisie. I want you to give her
this letter,--see that she gets it when she is alone. It is more
important to her than you can ever dream of. She must have it within a
few hours of her arrival. No one else must set eyes on it between now
and then. Do you understand, Maisi