By a disagreeable and curious coincidence, Miss Morven received that same evening ample confirmation of Norris’ arraignment! Lady Kesters had decided to pay her brother another visit, and wrote to announce that, as she and Martin were within fifty miles, she would fly down to see him for a few hours. “I’ll come to Brodfield by train and motor over. Don’t breathe a word to the Parretts. I can put up at the Drum and meet you there. I’ve ever so much to say and hear; your letters are miserable, and I’ve not seen you for more than two months. Martin is off to America in October--he has to look after some business--and I am going with him, as I want to see the country, but I shudder to think of the crossing. Uncle Dick is at Carlsbad. If you come over to the churchyard about six to-morrow, I shall be there. I’ll hire a car for the day and get back to Brodfield for the night, and rush to Rothes next morning with the milk; if you will make an appointment, I can meet you, and go for a stroll and a talk.” A smart Napier and a motor-veiled lady were not now a startling novelty in Ottinge--it was the highway to many places; but the 40 h.p. motor and lady who put up at the Drum was a refreshing novelty--and a novelty invested in mystery. The Drum jutted out obtrusively; the front faced down the road towards the Manor, and one side was parallel to the street, and whoever entered or left was well in evidence. Lady Kesters asked for dinner and a sitting-room, as if such were a matter of course! The sole sitting-room was just across the passage from the bar and overlooked the street. It was oak-panelled, very low, the walls were decorated with cheap prints and faded photographs of cricket groups, there was a round table, three or four chairs, and an overpowering atmosphere of stale beer. “Oh, let me see--I’ll have some tea and roast chicken,” announced the traveller. “Chicken, ma’am?” repeated Mrs. Frickett, and her tone was dubious. “I don’t know as I can run to that. The hens is roosting now.” “Oh, well,”--impatiently--“bacon and eggs. I’ll go and take a turn about the village.” With her veil drawn over her face, Lady Kesters walked out, went slowly up to the church, and critically inspected the Parsonage. Then, just inside the churchyard, she discovered her brother sitting on a tombstone. As he sprang to meet her, she exclaimed-- “Are you smiling at Grief?” “Hullo, Sis, this is most awfully good of you! How are you? Very fit?” “Yes. Do come out of this horribly dismal rendezvous, and let us go down one of the lanes, and talk.” “Aren’t you tired?” “No, only hungry. I’ve ordered a meal at the Drum. I’m tired of sitting in a train or motor, and glad of a walk. Well, Owen, so far so good--six months are gone--hurrah!” “Yes, thank goodness, but it’s been a pretty stiff job.” “An uphill business, and terribly dull! Again I repeat, would you like to move? You could so easily better yourself.”