"DEAR NIECE:--Herbert is in town. I ran across him at the club. He was in very low spirits, suspecting something between you and Major Anderson; but I soon cheered him up. Now is my time to confess that I wrote to H.H. a few days ago. Fortunately he had started for London before receiving the letter (has not seen it yet), so there is nothing for you to get angry at a doting uncle about. He tells me that never a scratch of a pen has he received from you, since the beginning of your misunderstanding. He means to call on you to-morrow, at the informal hour of ten in the morning. His happiness is all in your hands. "Your loving Uncle." Anderson's communication,--a hopeless scrawl, in which he said that Hemming was in town, and that he himself was going to France for a little while--only interested her in that it proved to be a key to her lover's message. Presently she glanced up at the clock. "Within half an hour," she cried, softly, and, gathering together her papers, she left the room. Of course Hemming was twenty minutes ahead of time. Mr. Pollin might have known that, under the circumstances, a lover always allows thirty minutes for a ten-minute cab-drive. Unfortunately, Mr. Pollin, though an estimable man in a hundred ways, did not know everything about a lover. He had very seldom been one himself, even of the mildest type. So when Hemming, short of breath, glorious of visage, and flushing hot and cold,--in fact, with all the worst symptoms of a recruit going into action,--entered the long and formal drawing-room, he was received by Mrs. Travers. This was a long way from what Pollin had led him to expect. He stood aghast; he got a grip on himself, and, bowing low, extended his hand. Mrs. Travers ignored his hand. But, for all her awe-inspiring front, she, too, was agitated. She knew that she was about to play a desperate game. Fever and rum had made the Brazilian colonel's game seem feasible. Conceit, stupidity, and love of money were her excuse for making a fool of herself. "Mr. Hemming, I believe," she said. This was too colossal for Hemming. He could not pass that, however eager he might be to get this unexpected interview over with. He lifted one hand close to his face and stared at it intently for several seconds. "'Pon my word," he said, "I believe you are right. May I ask if you recognized me by my eyeglass or my feet?" His smile was politely inquiring. He looked as if he really wanted to know. "You will leave this house immediately," cried the lady, as soon as she could command sufficient breath. "My daughter is very wise in deciding to have nothing to do with you." This shot told, and his manner changed to one of haggard doubt and dread. [Illustration: "AT THAT MOMENT MOLLY TRIPPED INTO THE ROOM"]