That epistle she had regarded in the light of a gratuitous piece of impertinence emanating either from Mr. Kleinwort or Mr. Forde, and under this impression she worded the advertisement which so annoyed Mr. Asherill; but when the last post of the next day brought those two missives, she began to wonder whether John Jones might not really have been some humble friend gifted with greater prescience than she possessed, who, unknowing of the remnant of her quarter's income she still possessed, might imagine her so short of money that even two pounds four shillings might prove acceptable. Moved by some incomprehensible impulse, she, the most careless of created beings, searched for that letter and locked it away in her dressing-case. There was no Rupert to talk to now. Twice since his departure he had appeared at Homewood, the first time to say Antonia was busy purchasing her trousseau, and that old Dean had acted most generously in the matter of money, on the next occasion to ask Dolly not to expect to see him before Monday, as he was obliged to go down to Bath; the real truth being Rupert had thought the Homewood matter over, and decided that until Antonia had become Mrs. Dean, the less he saw of that place the better. On the occasion of his first visit, Turner, the man already mentioned as having incited Esther to remove those vases and statuettes which seemed to them both desirable possessions, stopped him on his way to the gate. "You and Mr. Lang, sir, saw a man the other morning looking over the fence, I believe?" Rupert nodded assent. "And you asked Lang who he was, and Lang could not tell you?" "Yes," agreed Mr. Halling. "Well, I know, sir; he's a detective, and there are more of them about." Rupert stepped back as if he had received a blow, he stepped back so far he was brought up by a tree of _arbor vitæ_, out of which he emerged dripping with wet. "Detectives?" he repeated, taking off his hat and smoothing it mechanically. "What can they want here?" "If I am not greatly out in my calculation, sir, there are those in this business who would cheerfully give a hundred pounds to catch Mr. Mortomley tripping, or to be able to prove he ever did trip." "Mr. Mortomley may safely defy them then," said Rupert, but he did not turn back and warn Dolly there were spies round and about watching the old familiar place. Mr. Turner stood contemplating his retreating figure. "A fine young man," he thought, "but cut out and made up after the world's pattern. And so he won't tell her. Well, then, I will; for a lady like Mrs. Mortomley ought not to be kept in the dark. And her husband too ill to look after aught for himself," added Mr. Turner, who in truth was with the Mortomleys heart and soul, so far as the exigencies of his delightful profession allowed him to have sympathy for any one beyond the "one" who had put him in possession.