Small wonder if it were indeed so! In the study at Aberdare Mansions, Colin, very pale, sat staring at a sheet of typewritten paper, which Risk had put into his hand, saying— “My sister, as I’ve already explained, found this on her return to the flat. Steady, now!” On the sheet was written, in apparent haste, the following:— “Dear Hilda,— “A detective has come to arrest me. He says it’s the Post Office. I’m not a bit afraid, only sorry to trouble you so. Sam will see me through. Good-bye for a little while. “Kitty.” CHAPTER XXI KITTY was not a little excited at the prospect of her trip with Hilda, though at first her pride had raised a difficulty, and she had begged to be allowed to pay her own expenses. “Very well,” Hilda had promptly rejoined, “if you wish to hurt my brother’s feelings, not to mention mine, I can’t prevent you. Besides, you will spoil my holiday—” “But, Hilda, I can’t be always taking—” “You can have your revenge when the play is making your fortune.” “I wonder if it will. . . . Anyway, I’m glad Mr. West is going to be reasonable, aren’t you?” “Let’s go out and buy things for our holiday,” Hilda had said, rather hurriedly. “We have no time to waste to-day. It’s a nuisance, but I’m afraid I shall have to go to the office for an hour to-night, so that I may leave things in shape.” “And I must finish that typing before I go to bed. Oh, Hilda, sometimes I can’t help feeling that it’s all a dream!” “What—the typing?” “All the wonderful things that have happened to me lately. Why, it’s not a month since that horrible time in Dunford. I only wish for one thing—to hear from Sam, the postman. I can’t understand his not writing.” “Possibly, Mr. Hayward, who has gone to Scotland, my brother’s note tells me, will have news. I am wiring him to take tea with us at Newcastle to-morrow afternoon.” “Oh!” “And, naturally, I want to look my best! So come along to the shops at once! By the way, we have dinner early to-night—Matilda’s evening at the picture house.” * * * * * It was now shortly after eight. Hilda had not been long gone to the office, after promising to return by ten and wishing, secretly, that she had asked Matilda to postpone her outing. But her casual suggestion in that direction had been scoffed at by Kitty; and to have carried it further would only have made the girl uncomfortable. Kitty was too absorbed to feel lonely. Under the shaded electric light she was making an effort to finish her typing before Hilda’s return. She was in the best of spirits that youth and health can supply, and she was looking forward eagerly to the morrow—and, perhaps, the morrow’s afternoon. Nevertheless, she did start when a bell in the distance purred suddenly. “Silly!” she called herself the next moment. It was just the hour for the postman, and probably he had a packet that would not go into the letter-box. She went at once to the door.