As the Principal Boy had confidently predicted, the Right Honourable the Earl of Cartavon arrived at Broadoak Manor at lunch-time next day. The inmates of that venerable pile were ready for him. Howard, looking like a retired archbishop, received him at the door, and Captain Lottingar, in tweeds and gaiters, greeted him in the library. His lordship was affably informed that, in consequence of recent surprising and joyful disclosures by the young folk, his visit was not altogether unexpected; and that if he would join the house-party at luncheon, the business on which he had come down might be comfortably discussed over a cigar in the library afterwards. This much was retailed in the servants' hall by Howard, whose well-formed ears had missed little or nothing of the dialogue in the library, even in a filtered form. Mr. Briggs opined, amid general approval, that "the Captain and the gal between them could bleed the old toff proper." After lunch the Honourable emerged from the front door, armed only with a walking-stick, and set out briskly, apparently on a country walk. At the same time word was sent to Pip that the motor would be required at three. Punctually to time he ran the car up the broad avenue, passing the library windows on the way. He was conscious of a group of three round the fire,--it was a chilly day in late September,--and he wondered how the process of bleeding was getting on. The car and its driver stood before the front door for more than an hour. It was after four when the front door suddenly opened, and Lottie, banging it behind her, hurriedly descended the steps. She slipped up beside Pip. "Start off," she said--"quick!" Pip got down and set the engine going. "Where to?" he inquired. "Anywhere!" said Lottie in a choking voice, "anywhere! But get started." Pip sprang up into his place and took the wheel. The great car ceased vibrating and began to creep forward. Suddenly it gave a mighty plunge, and sped down the avenue. At the same moment Captain Lottingar, looking anything but a country gentleman, and furiously angry, threw open the library window and bawled to Pip to stop. But the louder he bawled and the more thoroughly he blasphemed the faster the car shot down the drive. Lord Cartavon sat stiffly in a high-backed chair by the fire. "I shouldn't trouble if I were you, Captain--er--Lottingar," he said. "She won't come back." Captain Lottingar banged down the window, and, returning to his favourite position on the hearthrug, summed up his daughter's character in terms which would have been excessive if applied to Jezebel herself. The Earl stood up.