Thus far Lady Lydiard had listened to her legal adviser, fixing her eyes on his face in her usually frank, straightforward way. She now stopped him in the middle of a sentence, with a change of expression in her own face which was undisguisedly a change to alarm. “Don’t apologize, Mr. Troy,” she said. “I am to blame for forgetting your appointment and for not keeping my nerves under proper control.” She paused for a moment and took a seat before she said her next words. “May I ask,” she resumed, “if there is something unpleasant in the business that brings you here?” “Nothing whatever, my Lady; mere formalities, which can wait till to-morrow or next day, if you wish it.” Lady Lydiard’s fingers drummed impatiently on the table. “You have known me long enough, Mr. Troy, to know that I cannot endure suspense. You _have_ something unpleasant to tell me.” The lawyer respectfully remonstrated. “Really, Lady Lydiard!--” he began. “It won’t do, Mr. Troy! I know how you look at me on ordinary occasions, and I see how you look at me now. You are a very clever lawyer; but, happily for the interests that I commit to your charge, you are also a thoroughly honest man. After twenty years’ experience of you, you can’t deceive _me_. You bring me bad news. Speak at once, sir, and speak plainly.” Mr. Troy yielded--inch by inch, as it were. “I bring news which, I fear, may annoy your Ladyship.” He paused, and advanced another inch. “It is news which I only became acquainted with myself on entering this house.” He waited again, and made another advance. “I happened to meet your Ladyship’s steward, Mr. Moody, in the hall--” “Where is he?” Lady Lydiard interposed angrily. “I can make _him_ speak out, and I will. Send him here instantly.” The lawyer made a last effort to hold off the coming disclosure a little longer. “Mr. Moody will be here directly,” he said. “Mr. Moody requested me to prepare your Ladyship--” “Will you ring the bell, Mr. Troy, or must I?” Moody had evidently been waiting outside while the lawyer spoke for him. He saved Mr. Troy the trouble of ringing the bell by presenting himself in the drawing-room. Lady Lydiard’s eyes searched his face as he approached. Her bright complexion faded suddenly. Not a word more passed her lips. She looked, and waited. In silence on his part, Moody laid an open sheet of paper on the table. The paper quivered in his trembling hand. Lady Lydiard recovered herself first. “Is that for me?” she asked. “Yes, my Lady.” She took up the paper without an instant’s hesitation. Both the men watched her anxiously as she read it. The handwriting was strange to her. The words were these:--