As the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room, Mrs. Churchill paused at the foot of the stairway, where the sullen nurse lingered. "Go on, Bertha, and get Rex's bath ready. Miss Lindsay will take him with her, as she wishes to see Grace and Otto." Turning to Devota, whose arm encircled the boy's shoulder, she looked steadily at both. "Mrs. Churchill, you must do me the favor to set my fears at rest about Rex. Promise me he shall have no reason to regret that he proved himself my brave and loyal lover. Recollect I encouraged his rebellion." The mother twined over one finger a red silk curl, and shook her free hand warningly. "You both deserve a sound, old-fashioned, hearty spanking, and I make no rash promises; but as the pair of you seem equally culpable, I might be embarrassed in administering justice. Good night, Rex. No, naughty boys cannot kiss their mothers. Don't forget your prayers, you need them. Now, Miss Devota, do not let my pretty imps, my tawny cub triad keep you too long. Perhaps Providence is aiding your mission by calling the Governor to the library. Better watch his door from the side hall. Good luck to you, dear, when you beard the lion!" CHAPTER III A promise having been exacted that the "triad" should accompany her to the early railway train, Devota went swiftly down a rear staircase to the side corridor running in front of the library. The door was open, and from the threshold she looked in. The room was well lighted; the typewriting machine at rest, the desk covered with official documents, and from a file at one side a sheaf of telegrams rustled as the air surged through the window. The sole occupant of the apartment was the secretary, Mr. Walton, seated before a tray-laden table. He had dined, and was dallying with a gilded liqueur glass in which iced Chartreuse sparkled like splintered emeralds. Doubtless Governor Armitage was the centre of attraction in the drawing-room, and the auspicious moment had passed beyond recall. A premonition of defeat impaired her self-control, and shrinking from observation, Devota walked down the corridor to an arched door, whence a flight of steps led to the flower garden. Avoiding the stone terrace in front, where an electric globe shone, she turned into a winding path bordered on both sides with wheeled boxes filled with tall pink oleanders in profuse bloom. A mid-summer full moon lighted every corner of the sloping lawn, bringing into velvety relief the shadow vignettes traced by leaf and vine across the smoothly clipped grass, and adding a silvery lustre to beds of lilies that lifted their white lips to drink from Hersé's cool, dripping palms. Among Mr. Churchill's valued curios he numbered a quaint sun dial of black lava, fashioned ages ago in an Ægean isle riven by volcanic throes.