The baronet was driven to and from the club by his own coachman, but on returning to Wensley House was told that his wife was still absent. "No telegram or message?" "No, Sir Charles." "I suppose she will stay with her sister all night, and I shall have a note in the morning to say so. Just like a woman. Now if I did that, James, there would be no end of a row. Anxiety, and that sort of thing. Call me at 8.30." An hour later Sir Charles Dyke left the library and went to bed. At breakfast next morning the master of the house rapidly scanned the letters near his plate for the expected missive from his wife. There was none. A maid was waiting. He sent her to call the butler. "Look here, Thompson," he cried, "her ladyship has not written. Don't you think I had better wire? It's curious, to say the least, going off to Richmond in this fashion, in a beastly fog, too." Thompson was puzzled. He had examined the letters an hour earlier. But he agreed that a telegram was the thing. Sir Charles wrote: "Expected to hear from you. Will you be home to lunch? Want to see you about some hunters"; and addressed it to his wife at her sister's residence. "There," he said, turning to his coffee and sole. "That will fetch her. We are off to Leicestershire next week, Thompson. By the way, I am going to a sale at Tattersall's. Send a groom there with her ladyship's answer when it comes." He had not been long at the sale yard when a servant arrived with a telegram. "Ah, the post-office people are quick this morning," he said, smiling. He opened the envelope and read: "Want to see you at once.--DICK." He was so surprised by the unexpected nature of the message that he read the words aloud mechanically. But he soon understood, and smiled again. "Go back quickly," he said to the man, "and tell Thompson to send along the next telegram." A consignment of Waterford hunters was being sold at the time, and the baronet was checking the animals' descriptions on the catalogue, when he was cheerily addressed: "Hallo, Dyke, preparing for the shires, eh?" Wheeling round, the baronet shook hands with Claude Bruce. "Yes--that is, I am looking out for a couple of nice-mannered ones for my wife. I have six eating their heads off at Market Harborough now." Bruce hesitated. "Will Lady Dyke hunt this season?" he asked. "Well, hardly that. But she likes to dodge about the lanes with the parson and the doctor." "I only inquired because she told me last night that she would probably winter in the South of France." "Told you--last night--South of France!" Sir Charles Dyke positively gasped in his amazement. "Why, yes. I met her at Victoria. She was going to Richmond to see her sister, she said." "I am jolly glad to hear it." "Glad! Why?" "Because I have not seen her myself since yesterday morning. She went off mysteriously, late in the afternoon, leaving a message with the servants. Naturally I am glad to hear from you that she got into the train all right."