She found herself at last standing stock-still at the bottom of the steps, looking upward, trying to concentrate all of her determination on what now appeared to her to be an undertaking of the utmost daring, as one who risks everything in an encounter in the dark. Ranjab appeared at the head of the stairs. She waited for his signal to ascend, somehow feeling that Brood had sent him forth to summon her. Her hand sought the stair-rail and gripped it tightly. Her lips parted in a stiff smile. Now she knew that she was turning coward, that she longed to put off the meeting until to-morrow--_to-morrow!_ The Hindu came down the stairs, quickly, noiselessly. “The master say to come to-morrow, to-morrow as usual,” he said, as he paused above her on the steps. “It--it must be to-day,” she said doggedly, even as the chill of relief shot through her. “To-morrow,” said the man. His eyes were kindly inquiring. “_Sahib_ say you are to rest.” There was a pause. “To-morrow will not be too late.” She started. Had he read the thought that was in her mind? “Thank you, Ranjab,” she said, after a moment of indecision. “I will come to-morrow.” Then she slunk downstairs and out of the house, convinced that she had failed Frederic in his hour of greatest need, that to-morrow would be too late. Frederic did not come in for dinner until after his father and Yvonne had gone from the house. He did not inquire for them, but instructed Jones to say to the old gentlemen that he would be pleased to dine with them if they could allow him the time to “change.” He also told Jones to open a single bottle of champagne and to place three glasses. “If you please, sir, Mrs Brood has given strict orders----” “That's all right, Jones. She won't mind for to-night. We expect to drink the health of the bride, Jones.” “Yes, sir.” “That is to say, _my_ bride.” “Your bride, Mr Frederic?” “I'm going to be married.” “Bless my soul, sir!” “You seem surprised.” “Ahem! I should 'ave said, 'God be praised,' sir.” “Now that I think of it, don't mention it to Mr Dawes and Mr Riggs. Let me make the announcement, Jones.” “Certainly, sir. It is most confidential, of course. Bless my--I mean to say, Golden Seal, sir?” “Any old thing, Jones.” “May I offer my congratulations, Mr Frederic? Thank you, sir. Ahem! Aw--ahem! Anyways soon, sir?” “Very soon, Jones.” “Bless--very good, sir. Of course, if I may be so bold as to inquire, sir, it's--it's--ahem?” “Certainly, Jones. Who else could it be?” “To be sure, sir, it _couldn't_ be anyone else. Thank you, sir. Yes, sir. She is the finest young lady in this 'ere world, Mr Frederic. You did say Golden Seal, Cliquot, ninety-eight, sir? It's the best in the 'ouse, sir, quite the best at present.”