"I'll write," he vowed, "and in pretty stiff terms, too, but I'm jiggered if I'll wire. The old chap should have shown more confidence in me. Why on earth didn't he announce his visit to Bristol? Jolly good job he left Hereford to-day before I arrived--there might have been ructions. Good Lord! He evidently takes Cynthia for an adventuress!" Yet, in spite of the chance of ructions, it would have been far better had Medenham not missed his father that morning. He was too dutiful a son, the Earl was too fair-minded a parent, that they should not be able to meet and discuss matters without heat. By noon they would have reached Symon's Yat; before lunch was ended the older man would have been Cynthia's most outspoken admirer. As it was--well, as it was--there used to be a belief in the Middle Ages that the Evil One's favorite nook lay amid the deepest shadow of a cathedral, and modern fact is ofttimes curiously akin to medieval romance. CHAPTER XI THE PARTING OF THE WAYS When he came to think of it, Medenham decided to return at once to Symon's Yat. It was advisable, however, to inform the proprietor of the hotel that the Earl's denunciation of Dale as a pilferer of luggage was based on a complete misunderstanding of the facts. With that object in view he entered the office; another surprise awaited him there. A lady bookkeeper, casting an appraising eye over his motoring garments, asked instantly: "Are you Mr. Fitzroy, driver of a Mercury car, Number X L 4000?" "Yes," said he, prepared now to see his name and description blazoned across the west front of the cathedral. "You are wanted on the telephone. Miss Vanrenen wishes you to ring her up." After a soul-chastening delay he heard Cynthia's voice: "That you, Mr. Fitzroy?" "Yes." "I'm so glad I caught you before you hurried away again.... Er--that is--I suppose you traveled rather fast, you and Mercury?" He laughed. That was all. He did not intend to let her assume so readily that he had missed the first thought which bubbled forth in words. She well knew that he was not in Hereford from personal choice, but she had not meant to tell him that she knew. "What are you sniggering at?" she demanded imperiously. "Only at your divination," he answered. "Indeed, if a tire had not given out soon after I left Whitchurch I would now be well on my way to the Yat." Suddenly he recollected the singular outcome of the incident. There was some reasonable probability that it might exercise a material effect on the course of events during the next few days. So, after a little pause, he added: "That is one reason; there are others." "Is something detaining you, then?" she asked. "Yes, a trivial matter, but I shall be at the hotel long before lunch." "Mrs. Devar is much better.... She is so sorry I remained indoors this morning." "Mrs. Devar is cultivating angelic qualities," he said, but he murmured under his breath: "The old cat finds now that she has made a mistake."