Yes. It was a matter of necessity, and I ought to do it. I sought for Hill. Hill was in the west wing, waiting on the tea party. Should I send Hickens to knock at the west wing door, or go myself? Better go myself, instinct told me. I ran lightly up the stairs. Peeping out at the east wing door, listening and prying, was the head of Mrs. Penn. "They have quite a soirée in the west wing to-night," she said to me, as I passed; "family gathering: all of them at it, save Sir Thomas. Whither are you off to so fast?" "I have a message for the west wing," I answered, as I brushed on, and knocked at the door. Hill came to unfasten the door. She turned desperately savage when she saw me. "I am not come to intrude, Hill. Mr. Chandos is here, is he not?" "What's that to anybody?" retorted Hill. "He is wanted, that is all. Be so good as ask him to step down to the oak-parlour. At once, please; it is very pressing." Hill banged the door in my face, and bolted it. Mrs. Penn, whose soft steps had come stealing near, seized hold of me by the gathers of my dress as I would have passed her. "Anne, who wants Mr. Chandos? Have the police come?" "I want him; I have a message for him," I boldly answered, the remembrance of her treachery giving me courage to say it. "Why should the police come? What do you mean?" "As they made a night invasion of the house once before, I did not know but they might have done it again. How tart you are this evening!" I broke from her and ran down to the parlour. Mr. Chandos was in it nearly as soon. "Hill said I was wanted. Who is it, Anne? Do you know?" "You must forgive me for having ventured to call you Mr. Chandos. I have been the cause of some unhappy mischief, and how I shall make the confession to you I hardly know. But, made it must be, and there's no time to be lost." "Sit down and don't excite yourself," he returned. "I daresay it is nothing very formidable." "When we were speaking of the gentleman I saw before dinner in the west wing, you warned me that his being there was a secret which I must take care not to betray." "Well?" "I ought to have told you then—but I had not the courage—that I had already betrayed it. In the surprise of the moment, as I left the west wing after seeing him, I mentioned it to Mrs. Penn. It was done thoughtlessly; not intentionally; and I am very sorry for it." "I am sorry also," he said, after a pause. "Mrs. Penn?" he slowly continued, as if deliberating whether she were a safe person or not. "Well, it might possibly have been imparted to a worse." "Oh, but you have not heard all," I feverishly returned. "I do not think it could have been imparted to a worse than Mrs. Penn; but I did not know it then. I believe she has been writing to Mr. Edwin Barley." My fingers were trembling, my face I know was flushed. Mr. Chandos laid his cool hand upon me. "Take breath, Anne; and calmness. I shall understand it better."