just tied my handkerchief on a table-leg in the
passage as I went down, and counted the doors, and when I came up and
saw my handkerchief I knew I was all right. The head housemaid came
up-stairs with me and she was most amused."

"I think it was very clever of you," said Philippa. "I wish I had done
the same."

"I hope you'll have a pleasant walk, miss," said Walker, and with that
she disappeared.

Philippa went to the front door, and stood on the step breathing in the
freshness of the morning. The sun was shining brightly, the dew lay
heavy on the lawns, and here and there a faint veil of mist was
hovering, soon to be dispersed by the warmth of the new day. All
Nature seemed refreshed and cleansed by the healing and rejuvenating
power of the night.

The girl herself in her simple suit of white serge looked as fresh as
the morning, although a careful observer might have noticed a shadow
telling of mental disquiet under the clear steadfast eyes. "Exercise,"
she told herself, "that is the thing for me. I will explore this
lovely garden."

She descended the steps and walked down the broad terrace which ran
along the south side of the house. She had only gone a few yards when
a sudden call behind her made her turn. A maid-servant ran to her--a
young girl, evidently one of the under-servants. She was breathless
with hurry or with fright, Philippa could not tell which, and almost
incoherent. "Oh, miss," she cried, "please come! Please come at once!
Mrs. Goodman wants you."

Philippa did not wait for any further explanation, but returned
immediately. At a small door on the terrace stood the woman who had
been her guide a few hours before, her face ashen, her eyes suffused
with tears, her whole appearance tragic in the extreme. She seized
Philippa by the hand and led her swiftly away. Between the sobs that
were shaking her the girl made out a few words:

"Come--quickly--for God's sake!--he wants you. My boy! my boy!"

With a speed which seemed remarkable for one of her age she ran up the
stairs, stumbling and sobbing as she went. Philippa put out an arm to
steady her, feeling conscious of no surprise, no wonder, nothing seemed
to matter except the urgent need for haste.

At last they reached the room, which she recognised. There were the
same flowered chintzes, there was her portrait on the table.

A sound of voices came from an adjoining apartment, and the woman
stopped to listen, raising her fin