Lady Lamerton took the note. It was addressed to her husband, but she hastily opened it. It contained these few lines only— “DEAR PAPA, “You said it would be best for you and for my step-mother, and for myself, if I went away for some time from Orleigh. I have gone—but not to Aunt Hermione. You can, of course, guess who accompanies me, one whom I trust ere long you will acknowledge as a son. I will write in a day or two. “Yours ever, “Arminell.” Lady Lamerton did not lose her presence of mind. “That will do,” she said to the maid, and went in quest of her husband. She showed him the letter and said in a low tone, “No time is to be lost; go instantly, go yourself to Chillacot, and see if she be there. If not you can learn where _he_ is. No one else can go. I will keep the company amused and occupied. Slip out by the gate at the end of the avenue and go over the down, no one will observe you.” Lord Lamerton nodded, and departed without a word. Presently up came Mrs. Cribbage again, “I cannot find Miss Inglett anywhere,” she said. “No, Mrs. Cribbage,” answered Lady Lamerton. “How are you likely to when she is gone to town? Did not I tell you that we had accepted Lady Hermione’s kind invitation?” “But I did not understand she was gone. I thought she was going.” “Surely you misunderstood me, Mrs. Cribbage; here comes Sir Bosanquet.” “There now,” exclaimed Lady Gammon, sailing up with a flutter of silk, and a waving of lace fringe to her parasol. “There I said so, Sir Bosanquet, polarisation of light has nothing to do with polar bears. I bought Plantagenet a box of the prismatical colours because they are warranted to contain no deleterious matter in them, should the dear child take to”—there was no Latinised word that would suit, or that she knew—“to suck ’em.” “Oh Lady Gammon,” said the hostess, “I am so vexed that I cannot introduce to you my step-daughter, but she has been invited to her aunt’s, Lady Hermione Woodhead, and there is a Richter concert to-night—selections from Parzifal, which she ought not to miss.” CHAPTER XXX. HOW THE FISH CAME TOGETHER. Lady Lamerton did her utmost. She was lively, quite sprightly even. She moved among her guests with a pleasant smile and a courteous word for every one. The lawn-tennis courts were occupied by four sets of players. A cluster of young men and girls were at a table blowing soap bubbles, and finding fund for laughter in the process. A group of their seniors were making a party for bowls. Some of the guests stood on the terrace looking down at the lawn-tennis players and pretending to take interest in the games. The majority of those present wandered about the gardens, shrubberies, and conservatories. A little hand was thrust into that of Lady Lamerton, and on looking down she saw Giles.