Godfrey, whose mind had not been steadied by the events of the afternoon, became confused and replied that he was extremely sorry, but the fact was he had met Isobel and, in talking to her, had not noticed the time. “Isobel!” exclaimed his father, whose voice was now icy. “What Isobel?” “I never knew but one, Father.” “Oh! I suppose you mean Miss Blake. I had no idea she was here; indeed, I thought she was still in Mexico. But doubtless you were better informed.” “No, Father, I met her accidentally. She has returned to England.” “That is obvious, Godfrey——” “She has come down,” he continued in a hurry, “to get the house ready for Sir John, who arrives shortly.” “Oh! has she? What a strange coincidence! All the years of our separation while you were away she was away, but within two days of your return she returns.” “Yes, it does seem odd,” agreed the flustered Godfrey, “but it’s lucky, isn’t it, for, of course, I am glad to see her again.” Mr. Knight finished carving himself a helping of beef, and let the knife fall with a clatter into the dish. Then he said in carefully chosen words: “You may think it lucky—or well arranged—but I must differ. I tell you at once that I consider Miss Blake a most pernicious young woman, and as your father I can only express the hope that you do not intend to allow her to re-assert her evil influence over you.” Godfrey was about to answer with wrath, but changed his mind and remained silent. So the topic dropped, but that it stood very straight upon its feet in Mr. Knight’s mind was clear from the compression of his thin lips and the ill-humour of his remarks about the coldness and overdone character of the beef and sundry other household matters. As soon as the meal was concluded and he had washed it down with a last glass of water and with a very wry face thanked Providence for all that he had received, he retired into his study and was seen no more till prayer-time. Nor was he seen then by Godfrey, who had gone out to smoke his pipe since his father could not bear the smell of tobacco in the house, and wandered unconsciously towards the Hall. There he stood, gazing at a light which he knew came from Isobel’s window, and lost in this unfruitful contemplation, once more forgot the time. When he arrived home it was to find the house in darkness and a note in his father’s handwriting on the hall table requesting him to be careful to lock the door, as everyone had gone to bed.