At last the two went downstairs, and out into the garden where Oliver Tropenell and the child were talking together. Oliver turned round, and after shaking hands with Mrs. Winslow, he asked Laura an abrupt question. "Did Godfrey come back last evening after all?" Katty looked at him inquisitively. Then he had been at The Chase yesterday? Laura shook her head. "No, I sat up for him till midnight. I thought it almost certain that he'd taken the last train. But we've had no news of him at all. Perhaps he's at the Bank by now--I'll ring up as soon as I get home. Come, Alice, my dear." Katty heard Oliver Tropenell say in a low voice: "May I walk with you?" And then Katty cut in: "You'll let me know, Laura, won't you, if you have any special news? Of course I don't want you to let me know if Godfrey's safe at the Bank--I'm not so anxious as all that!" She laughed, her rather affected, little ringing laugh. "But if there's any other news--especially if he's had an accident of any sort--well, I _should_ like to know." "Of course I'll send you word." And then Laura roused herself. "Why shouldn't you come up to lunch, Katty? I wish you would! And then I could tell you anything I've heard this morning." "Thanks, I'd like to do that. I'll follow you in about an hour. I've things to do, and letters to write, now." She saw the three off, and once more, as had so often been the case in the past, her heart was filled with envy--envy, and a certain excitement. Oliver Tropenell's return home just now was a complication. She felt sure it would upset Godfrey, but she could not quite tell how much. She wondered if Gilbert Baynton had come back too. She rather hoped that he had. She wrote her letters, and then, so timing her departure as to arrive exactly at one o'clock, for at The Chase luncheon was at one, she went off, meeting, as she expected to do, Oliver Tropenell on his way home to Freshley. "Any news?" she called out. And he shook his head. "No--no news at all." Then he added slowly: "But I don't see that there's any cause for alarm. Pavely telephoned the day before yesterday saying he was being detained in town." "Still, it's odd he didn't write to Laura," said Katty meditatively. "As a rule he writes to Laura every day when he is in London." She knew that was one of those half-truths which are more misleading than a lie. Godfrey was fond of sending home postcards containing directions as to this or that connected with the house or garden. But Katty saw the instinctive frown which came over Oliver Tropenell's face, and she felt pleased. She enjoyed giving this odd, sensitive, secretive man tiny pin-pricks. She had never really liked him, and now she positively disliked him. Why had he gone away just when things were looking promising? And, having gone away for so long, why had he now come back? "How is Mr. Baynton?" she asked, smiling. "He's gone back to Mexico."