"I must have dropped it in bending over; thank you for finding it. There's a shilling for your trouble." And straightening up, he realised that Miss Fitzgerald was regarding him intently. Half an hour later the wreck was sufficiently cleared for them to resume their homeward way. The remainder of the afternoon was not a success, including, as it did, a drive home in the teeth of a wind which had suddenly sprung up; which, finding them hot and dusty, left them at their destination cold and cross, and utterly fagged out; Stanley with a twinge of rheumatism, devoutly hoping that Lady Isabelle had got it over, and Miss Fitzgerald with a splitting headache, realising that she had lost a move in the game. They both looked forward to dinner as a salve for all evils, though when they entered the drawing-room just in time to go down, they were naturally surprised, Miss Fitzgerald at being committed to the charge of Kent-Lauriston, and the Secretary to Lady Isabelle--for the latter of which arrangements the Dowager was directly responsible--indeed, she had held an interview with her hostess a few minutes before, which had left that lady very much excited. As soon as they were seated at table, he noticed that he was separated from Miss Fitzgerald as far as might be, so he lost no time in putting Lady Isabelle at her ease by engaging her in conversation. Knowing what he did, he felt that to give her a chance to talk about her husband would be most acceptable to her, and probably useful to him; so, noting his absence, he told her of accidentally hearing of his departure. "I suppose," he said, "that as he was carrying so much of value, he'll stop in London before going north?" "Of value," she said. "I do not understand." "Why, five cases of stereopticon slides for Mr. Riddle. I helped the carrier to reload them, and very heavy they were." "He said nothing to me of it," she replied; "but he certainly is going to stop in London one night." "I wish I'd known, I'd have asked him to cash a cheque for me. It's so hard to do that sort of thing in the country, and I imagine we bank at the same place." "He banks at the Victoria Street branch of the Bank of England. I'm sure he would have been glad to have done it for you." "Thanks, but it really doesn't matter," replied Stanley, who, having thus learned the probable destination of Mr. Riddle's chests of sovereigns was contented to change the subject, saying: "I do hope that the Lieutenant unburdened his soul to your mother before he left."