"Sorry, Mr. Hildebrand, but me and my mate are due at Baltimore in the morning, setting a chancel window at S. Paul's. I don't think your work can be managed before the first of next week." "Then I'll have to take the risk?" "I'm afraid so. But we've put the really bad place in decent order, and I don't see why the glass shouldn't stand any ordinary wind. Just got to chance it, sir." Of course there was nothing further to say, so I thanked the men and dismissed them. Yes, there was no alternative; I should have to chance it. When I wrote my usual nightly letter to Betty I told her of the circumstances which had caused me to break the letter of my promise about entering the library. I dare say I nourished a secret hope that the news would upset her; that it might even have the effect of inducing her to make a hasty return to the "Hundred." But that would imply that she still cared for me, and the cold fact remained that, at this very moment, the name of Chalmers Warriner stood inscribed upon the register of the Red Lion Inn at Stockbridge. Chapter XIX _The Seat Perilous_ Wednesday, the twentieth of June, was the blackest of all black days. When Betty's letter came I found it very unsatisfactory reading. Warriner had been making the most of his opportunities; that was certain. He had been over twice for five-o'clock-tea, and a number of pleasant affairs were in prospect--a water party on the Bowl, a day's golf at Pittsfield, a masked ball at Lenox; so it went. Apparently Betty was in for a royal good time, and she had no compunction in making me aware of the fact. My intrusion upon the forbidden ground of the library was, it seemed, a matter of no importance; not even mentioned. Later on, I realized that she could not have received my communication on the subject--but never mind; I felt aggrieved, and the black dog of jealousy heeled me wherever I went that long, beautiful June day. Surely, I was the most miserable man alive, and it is not surprising that I diligently continued the digging of the pit into which I was so soon to fall. Thursday, the twenty-first, brought a number of business matters to my attention, and under the pressure of these imperative duties I half forgot about my troubles. Again Betty's letter was non-committal and made no references to my doings or delinquencies. I should have enjoyed calling it evasive, but that was hardly possible seeing that Warriner's name was mentioned three or four times; the fellow was assuredly making hay. After my solitary evening dinner I thought it wise to keep my mind at work, and, accordingly, I started in on a big batch of farm accounts. I had heard the trampling of a horse's hoofs on the gravel drive, but had paid no attention; now a heavy step echoed along the black-and-white chequers of the great hall, and I became conscious that Marcus, the house-boy, stood at the door in the act of announcing a visitor. I looked up and saw John Thaneford.