“We won’t discuss my mission. What I want to say is this. Miss Ford, who is rather of a nervous disposition, has asked me to send her wires at intervals of the journey....” “And you want me to go to Scotland and send them,” said Trenter brilliantly. Gordon had never respected his servant’s intelligence so much as he did at that moment. “Exactly. It will save me a lot of worry. And,” he added mysteriously, “if the wires fall into other hands, they will help deceive a Certain Person!” Trenter nodded wisely. He couldn’t guess who the Certain Person was: even Gordon did not know. But lying grew easier with practice--he had grown reckless. “Not a word of this in the servants’ hall,” warned Gordon. The servitor smiled. Gordon had not seen him smile before. It was a strange sight. “No, sir; I shall tell them that my aunt in Bristol is ill (which she is) and that you’ve given me leave. How long do you want me to be away, sir?” “A week,” said Gordon. Mr. Trenter went down to the servants’ hall importantly. “The old man’s given me a week’s holiday to see my aunt. I’m leaving to-morrow.” Eleanor was constitutionally suspicious. “Bit sudden, isn’t it? He’s going away to-morrow too. You men are devils! Us women never know what you’re up to.” Trenter smiled cryptically. It added to his self-confidence to be suspected of devilish deeds. “Noos verrong,” he said, and added the information: “French.” “Is Miss Diana going?” asked the cook. “With me or him?” demanded Trenter insolently. “She’s not going with _him_! And do I blame him? No! She’s no lady, that’s my firm opinion.” “Then keep it to yourself!” said Eleanor, shrill of voice. “I don’t want you to say anything about Miss Diana!” “You women stick together.” Trenter could not but admire the trait. “And you men stick at nothing.” Eleanor’s sincerity gave sanction to inconsequence. “She’s too good for him. I suppose you’re both off on some gallivanting business? So far as I am concerned you’re welcome! You’ve been an experience, and every girl ought to have experience--up to a point. Your wife can have you.” “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you forty million times that I’m not married!” hissed Trenter. “I had to be married because he wanted a married man for a butler, and if I’d said I was single I should have lost the job. That temper of yours, my girl, is going to be your ruin.” “Well, don’t talk disp--whatever the word is--about Miss Diana,” she sulked. “I don’t trouble my head about her, because I don’t think there’s anybody in the world like you, Eleanor,” he urged. She admitted later that there was much to be said for his point of view. CHAPTER IX