To her surprise she found it was the elder Miss Maybrick. In a few minutes, she was seated in Anstice's morning-room, and pouring out her story. "I have come to ask you to come back with me at once. My sister Carrie is very, very ill, and she keeps asking for you. You know that we are both at the Hall? I did not mean to take your advice. I gave her a date last week on which I meant to take possession and I warned her that I was going to have painters, carpenters and paperers all over the house. And then to spite me, she went out of doors on that awful day of rain we had about a week ago. She walked through the woods, and I believe sat out, and when she came in she would not change her wet boots. Of course, as she expected, the next day she could not rise from her bed. The doctor came, said she had rheumatic fever, and then rode over to give me the news. I knew she would circumvent me, if she could. We've had to get two nurses in, but she keeps crying for you, until I could stand it no longer, so I've come over to fetch you. The doctor told me this morning that she would not pull through. Her heart is affected. Can you come at once? You've been seeing a good deal of her, I suppose? Anyhow, only your presence will satisfy her." "Poor dear! I must come, I suppose, but I must just leave a note for my husband. I was going for my first ride with him this afternoon. How can I get back?" "I'll send my car back with you, of course." Anstice went to her writing-desk and scribbled a note. "DEAR JUSTIN,— "I am so sorry. I hope you will not mind, but Miss Maybrick has called to take me to her sister, who she fears is dying. She wants to see me. I hope I shall be back by tea-time. She will send me back in her car. "In haste. "ANSTICE." Then she went upstairs to put on her outdoor things, and in ten minutes' time was being whirled along towards Harscale Hall. Miss Maybrick seemed inclined to talk. Her dark, keen eyes looked miserable. "I can't believe she's dying. She has aged so wonderfully since I saw her last. I think of her as a laughing, merry child, when I used to mother her. I little thought then how we should spend our last years. You did well to talk to me as you did; it made me write her a kinder letter than I had intended to do. I told her of a farm about four miles off, where I would make arrangements for her comfort and pay for her board if she liked to go. I knew we could never live together in the same house. We are both too masterful. But you see she was determined not to go." "I can't believe she would determinedly try to make herself ill," said Anstice. "Perhaps she was feeling rather desperate and wandered out in the wet to think things out. She told me she was very fond of walking in the woods."