She asked about Susan in the village, in order that if any enquiries were made she could substantiate her statement of ignorance. Of course, nobody had heard there of the missing girl, as she very well knew would be the case. She then went on up to London by the next train, and proceeding at once to the offices to which she was directed, she handed the old lady's letter to the senior partner. In the meantime, Doctor Jolly was attending to poor Tom's wounds; the wounded hero had passed a very bad night, and was feverish and excitable. The doctor, who had his suspicions about Markworth, asked one or two guarded questions of Tom as to the whereabouts of his friend. He had been surprised at not seeing the exquisite at Lady Inskip's pic-nic: with his downright common sense, aided by his dislike and suspicions of Markworth, he thought that there must be some connection at first between Susan's disappearance and the absence of the other. Tom's answers to his questions, however, fairly puzzled him, and the doctor was thrown off the scent entirely. Tom said, in reply to one of the doctor's casual enquiries, that he had driven Markworth over to Hartwood Station himself before he had gone on to the pic-nic. That his friend had been suddenly summoned up to town the previous morning, and that he expected him back very shortly, as he said he might not be detained long; although Tom added, "he had taken his traps with him." "Oh, he has? has he!" answered the doctor. "Well, I daresay we'll have him down soon again though, and then you will be able to get about again with him." He cheered up Tom, who was very crestfallen and hippish with the pain he had undergone, and the thoughts of being kept a prisoner in bed whilst he so much wished, particularly now on account of Lizzie, to be able to move about. "Bless my soul!" said the old fellow, cheerfully, as he went out, "why, you will be right again in a jiffey. We have got all that beastly shot out of you, and the place is healing beautifully. I tell you what I will do, too, Master Tom," he added, nodding his head knowingly, with a twinkling of his kind grey eyes--"I'll tell a certain little girl how we are getting on; I know she will feel interested!" "Thank you, doctor; you're a trump, by Jove!" said Tom, gladly, "and give her my compliments." "Hang your compliments, you young rascal; I'll give you her love when I come back!" and the doctor laughed himself with a cheery ho! ho! ho! out of the room, down the staircase, to the dining-room below, where Mrs Hartshorne--the old lady looking quite broken already from the anxiety she had gone through--was waiting to hear his report about Tom. They had decided not to tell him yet about Susan in his present state-- not, at all events, until the lawyer came down. The doctor said Tom was doing very well, although excitement would be bad for him; and then went out to pay some calls around, promising to call back in a few hours' time.