"MY DEAR,--You must not be disappointed if I write only a few words. I have hurt my hand, which makes writing uncomfortable. It is not of the least importance, and you need not be uneasy: but accept the explanation if it should happen to be some days before you hear from me again. Love to the children.--Yours affectionately, R. L. L." Mrs Lycett-Landon grew pale as she read this note. "I see it all," she said; "there has been an accident, and Mr Fareham did not like to tell me of it. Horace, where is the book of the trains? I must go at once. Run, Milly, and put up a few things for me in my travelling-bag." "What is it, mother? Hurt his hand? Oh, but that is not much," Horace said. "It is not much perhaps; but to be so careful lest I should be anxious is not papa's way. 'If it should happen to be some days----' Why, it is ten days since he wrote last. I am very anxious. Horry, my dear, don't talk to me, but go and see about the trains at once." "I know very well about the trains," said Horace. "There is one at ten, but then it arrives in the middle of the night. Stop at all events till to-morrow morning. I will telegraph." "I am going by that ten train," his mother said. "Which arrives between three and four in the morning!" "Never mind, I can go to the Euston, where papa always goes. Perhaps I shall find him there. He has never said where he was living." "You may be sure," said Horace, "you will not find him at the Euston. No doubt he is in the old place in Jermyn Street. He only goes to the Euston when he is up for a day or two." "I shall find him easily enough," Mrs Lycett-Landon said.