“Ah! I expected you would take that sort of air when you returned to your property,” said Scrivener. “The whole thing was a mistake, and I told Long John so. And so that young lady is the angel of your life?” “I forbid you to mention her name. What is your business here to-day?” “To bring you a message,” said Scrivener, favouring Rowton with a long and steady glance. “You have had your five weeks; the end of your tether is therefore reached; you belong to us now, and we have something for you to do.” “I doubt not that you have,” said Rowton. “Yes, there is some important business waiting for you. Can you return with me to town this afternoon?” Rowton looked both disturbed and annoyed. “Does Long John want me so soon?” he asked. “He wants you to-night. We have an important meeting at our club to-night, and it is absolutely necessary that you should be present.” Rowton stood quite still, a frown between his thick brows. Presently it cleared away. “I am at your service,” he said. Scrivener was evidently relieved at this sudden acquiescence. “That is a good thing,” he said. “I was commissioned to bring you with or against your will. When you submit to the inevitable you make things far easier for us. I’ll get straight back to Pitstow Station and take the next train to town. The meeting is appointed for eleven o’clock to-night—you’ll be sure to be there? You won’t play us false?” “No, I shall come up to town by your train. Go, Scrivener, I don’t want people to see you about.” “As you please,” said the man; “but I expect folks round here will have to get accustomed to me. I am thinking of taking lodgings in the neighbourhood.” “You are not?” “Yes, I am. The air is wonderfully bracing, and I have been feeling rather pulled down lately. Well, good-day, I am sorry, sir, you have not got a job for me on the premises.” These last remarks were made in a servile tone, and for the benefit of an under-gardener who was seen approaching. Rowton nodded. Scrivener turned on his heel and disappeared. “Come here,” said Rowton to the gardener. He walked with him across the lawn, gave him some directions with regard to the moving of several plants, and then sauntered slowly into the house. He went into the library, where he hoped to find Nance. She was there; she had seated herself in a chair in front of a great fire; a book lay open on her lap, but she was not reading; with the tears undried on her cheeks, she was fast asleep. She looked weary, almost ethereal, in her sleep. Rowton looked at her fair face with a great pang at his heart.