"Madam:--I hope you will excuse me intruding, but I think you would wish to know that Mr. Charles Merceron is in London, and that I met him this evening with Mr. Wentworth. As you informed me that you had passed Mr. Merceron on the road two or three times during your visit to Lang Marsh, I think you may wish to be informed of the above. I may add that Mr. Merceron is aware that you are engaged to Mr. Wentworth, but I could not make out how far he was aware of what happened at Lang Marsh. I think he does not know it. Of course you will know whether Mr. Wentworth is aware of your visit there. I should be much obliged if you would be so kind as to tell me what to say if I meet the gentlemen again. Mr. Merceron is very pressing in asking me for news of you. I am to be married in a fortnight from the present date, and I am, Madam, yours respectfully, Nettie Wallace." "In London, and with Calder!" exclaimed Agatha Glyn. "Oh dear! oh dear! oh dear! What is to be done? I wish I'd never gone near the wretched place!" Then she took up the letter and reread it. "He and I mustn't meet, that's all," she said. Then she slowly tore the letter into very small pieces and put them in the waste-paper basket. "Calder has no idea where I was," she said, and she sat down by the window and looked out over the Park for nearly ten minutes. "Ah, well! I should like to see him just once again. Dear old Pool." said she. Then she suddenly began to laugh--an action only to be excused in one in her position, and burdened with her sins, by the fact of her having at the moment a peculiarly vivid vision of Millie Bushell going head first out of a canoe. CHAPTER VII THE INEVITABLE MEETING