"Women are born gamblers," observed Glen, fastening her wrap under her chin. Jennings entered, in answer to the bell. "Jennings," said Indiana, with an indifferent air, "there’s—there’s a note on the table for—your master." "Yes, yer little leddyship." "Er—I shall be—" "I hear someone coming downstairs," whispered Glen. "Quick, or Bluebeard will cut off our heads!" "I feel like a bad boy, playing truant," laughed Indiana. "Scoot!" They ran, giggling quietly, into the hall. Jennings, with a horror-stricken face, tottered to the window, pushed aside the curtains hastily, and pressed his face against the glass. Lord Stafford, entering the library then, saw him in this position and heard the sound of wheels. "Who’s driving off, Jennings?" Jennings started. "Her—her—little leddyship." Lord Stafford looked at him incredulously. He had just been talking with Thurston, and Indiana was not likely to go out without him. They always remained at home on Sunday nights. "Impossible!" "Her little leddyship’s gone out with a gentleman from America," said Jennings. A light broke on Lord Stafford. "Oh, evidently young Masters," he thought. He sank into a chair by the fire, pulling his moustache contemplatively. "Thurston was apparently unaware of the fact—something’s up." Thurston came into the library a moment later. "I thought you were dining out to-night, Uncle Nelson." He rubbed his hands, holding them over the fire. Lord Stafford lit a cigarette, trying to appear unconcerned. "I shall be off in a minute." "I’m as hungry as a bear," said Thurston, cheerily. "I must go and find Indiana. I left her asleep here. She is usually dressed and down by this time." "Er—Thurston," commenced Lord Stafford. But Thurston had left the room before he could speak. Jennings, still standing near the window, was a little, old figure turned into stone. "By George," muttered Lord Stafford. "A pretty mess, this." "Indiana’s not upstairs!" exclaimed Thurston, when he entered again. "She may be with my mother. I did not think of that." "Her little leddyship’s gone out, sir," said Jennings, shrinking into the shadow of the curtains. "Impossible!" exclaimed Thurston, loudly. "I left her asleep here." Lord Stafford put his hand warningly on his shoulder. "Her little leddyship left a note," continued Jennings, peering over the table. Thurston instantly saw the little white note lying among the books. He seized and read it quickly. His first expression of incredulous surprise faded away. His face became impassive. "Will I serve dinner at eight, sir?" "Certainly," answered Thurston, calmly crushing the note in his hand. Lord Stafford looked at him inquiringly, as Jennings left the room. "She has gone with Glen Masters to dine with her people—at the Cecil—and asks me to fetch her," said Thurston, slowly. "Then it’s all right." Lord Stafford felt, in a measure, relieved.