And the next morning, after breakfast, she announced that she had arranged for a cab and we must start for the station at once. I said nothing then, but when the cab pulled up before a railway station, a station which was not our accustomed one but another, I said a great deal. “What in the world, Hephzy!” I exclaimed. “We can't go to Mayberry from here.” “Hush, hush, Hosy. Wait a minute--wait till I've paid the driver. Yes, I'm doin' it myself. I'm skipper on this cruise. You're an invalid, didn't you know it. Invalids have to obey orders.” The cabman paid, she took my arm and led me into the station. “And now, Hosy,” she said, “let me tell you. We aren't goin' to Mayberry--not yet. We're going to Leatherhead.” “To Leatherhead!” I repeated. “To Leatherhead! To--her? We certainly will do no such thing.” “Yes, we will, Hosy,” quietly. “I haven't said anything about it before, but I've made up my mind. It's our duty to see her just once more, once more before--before we say good-by for good. It's our duty.” “Duty! Our duty is to let her alone, to leave her in peace, as she asked us.” “How do you know she is in peace? Suppose she isn't. Suppose she's miserable and unhappy. Isn't it our duty to find out? I think it is?” I looked her full in the face. “Hephzy,” I said, sharply, “you know something about her, something that I don't know. What is it?” “I don't know as I know anything, Hosy. I can't say that I do. But--” “You saw Herbert Bayliss yesterday. That was the 'errand' you went upon yesterday morning in Paris. Wasn't it?” She was very much taken aback. She has told me since that she had no idea I suspected the truth. “Wasn't it?” I repeated. “Why--why, yes, it was, Hosy. I did go to see him, there at his hotel. When you told me how he acted and what he said to you I thought 'twas awfully funny, and the more I thought it over the funnier it seemed. So I made up my mind to see him and talk with him myself. And I did.” “What did he tell you?” I asked. “He told me--he told me--Well, he didn't tell me so much, maybe, but he gave me to understand a whole lot. She's gone to those Crippses, Hosy, just as I suspicioned, not because she likes 'em--she hates 'em--or because she wanted to go, but because she thought 'twould please us if she did. It doesn't please us; it doesn't please me, anyway. She sha'n't be miserable for our sake, not without a word from us. No, we must go there and see her and--and tell her once more just how we feel about it. It's our duty to go and we must. And,” with decision, “we're goin' now.” She had poured out this explanation breathlessly, hurrying as if fearful that I might interrupt and ask more questions. I asked one of them the moment she paused.