m a telegram. "How
did this come at this hour?"

"Miss Brooks sent it up, sir; Bailey's boy brought it on a bicycle--she
thought----" The man's voice trailed away into silence at the look on
his master's face.

Major Heathcote's eyes were fixed on the pink slip in his hand, and
Philippa, who was watching him, saw his face darken suddenly and his
rather square jaw shoot forward as a strong man's will in the face of
danger.

Then he rose quickly and walked round to his wife.

"Old girl!" he said, "I am afraid the boy isn't very fit--Jack wires
that he seems seedy, and that they have got a man over from York.
Don't be anxious, it's probably nothing much--but I think I'll run up
and see."

"Dickie! Oh, Bill!" faltered Marion. "What does he say? Let me see."

"That's all. Just 'Dickie doesn't seem well, have wired for Stevens
from York,'" he repeated. His hand was tightly clenched on the
crumpled ball of paper. "Wait a moment, darling. Let me think a
minute----"

"Yes! Ford! The car round at once, please,"--he gave the order
sharply,--"and bring me a Bradshaw. I think I can get to Eastminster
in time to catch the 9.15, which should get to Carton Junction in time
for the North Express. Now, dearest,"--he turned to his wife
again,--"you must try not to be too anxious. I will----"

Marion had regained her composure, and rising she laid her hand on his
arm. "All right, Bill," she interrupted quickly. "I'm coming--you are
quite right--we must hope for the best. How long can you give me?"

"Ten minutes."

"Very well. I won't keep you waiting." She was half across the room
as she spoke.

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Philippa. It hardly seemed the
moment to offer anything but the most practical form of sympathy to the
man who stood motionless just as his wife had left him, with his eyes
fixed upon the chair she had quitted. Her question recalled him to
himself with a start, but he did not reply.

"I am afraid there was more in the telegram than you told Marion," she
said gently.

"Yes," he answered huskily. "I won't tell her--yet. It said 'Come at
once--very anxious.'" Then something between a sob and a groan burst
from him, and he squared his shoulders. "But we must----" Then he
turned and went away. The sentence wasn't finished. That obvious
pitiful platitude with which most of us are only too sadly
familiar--that phrase which comes most naturally to our lips when our
hearts ar