That satisfaction was only too well founded. It was then just eleven, and at that very minute the indomitable Miss Winfrey was tramping into view of the township lights. They were few enough at such an hour. The Stockman's Rest, however, was both alight and alive, and midnight oil was burning in the post-office over the way. Miss Winfrey hesitated, bent her steps towards the post-office, hesitated again, and finally marched straight across to the hotel. The verandah was empty. She did not set foot on it. She could see into the bar.... She did not think he was there.... If only she could be sure! In the end a groundless panic overcame her, and to the post-office she fled pell-mell. There, however, she recovered herself sufficiently to recall the pretext with which she had come prepared, and to drop a sham missive in the box before knocking. It was the post-mistress herself who unlocked the door, who stood on the threshold with a lamp held high, her kind face wrinkled with surprise and concern. "Why--bless the lot of us!--it's never Miss Winfrey?" "It is," said the governess, with a wan smile and a hand on her heart. "Will you let me sit down, and--not ask what brings me?" Miss Crisp pushed her pale visitor into a chair. "Perhaps I know," said she slyly. "That letterbox makes a noise!" "Oh, to be so deceitful!" moaned Miss Winfrey, red with shame. "Tut!" said her ready dupe; "I only call it venturesome. I know _I_ shouldn't like to have all my letters seen when they make up the station mail-bag, though I don't know the thing that would bring me all this way on foot at this time of night. However, that's your business, my dear, and you shall have a cup of tea before I let you go again." The two had often foregathered since the day of Miss Winfrey's arrival, and the fact made her feel meaner than ever now. Yet she could not bring herself to tell the post-mistress everything, and it was either that or the small deceit which she was practising. Consciously or unconsciously Miss Crisp must help her. They took the same strong view of the dreadful system of knocking down cheques; the governess proceeded to turn this to account. She referred to their first meeting, and as casually as possible to Cattle-station Bill, saying the poor man had been in for another cheque that afternoon. "Indeed?" said Miss Crisp, seating herself till the kettle should boil. "He didn't get one, did he?" "He did. That's just it. What makes you think he did not?" "He never stopped on his way back." "Not--opposite?" "No." The girl's heart danced. "Are you positive?" "Quite. He's back at his hut, for I saw him go--galloping like a mad thing!" "What time was that?" "Between four and five."