Of late no odd characters had been coming to the cottage, but Hale was absent much more frequently. On this occasion his absence was welcome, as it gave Lesbia a chance of arranging her plans with Canning. What these might be she had, as yet, no very clear idea. All she intended to do was to explain the situation and ask The Shadow what was best to be done. When she received his opinion, she could then take a step forward into the veiling mists which surrounded her. While Tim rowed down to Cookham, which he did after landing Lesbia at the bottom of the garden, the girl ran into the cottage. She found that she had it all to herself as, true to his promise, Mr. Hale had dismissed Mrs. Petty. That good lady, liking the easy place, had retired in high dudgeon, and would have shown fight but that Hale quelled her with a glance of his cold, grey eye. Hale, indeed, possessed a great power--perhaps a hypnotic power--over those who came to the cottage. Had not Canning fallen sick, and thus had been removed from his influence, it is very questionable if he would have offered his services to Lesbia. However, he had done so, and the girl was about to accept them gratefully. Lesbia passed the time in dressing herself for dinner, and in partaking of it. It was a homely meal, consisting of cold meat and salad, bread and cheese and a glass of prime claret. Afterwards Lesbia made herself a cup of black coffee, and sat down in the tiny drawing-room with a book, pending the arrival of The Shadow. But her thoughts wandered from the printed page to George, and more than ever she longed for his coming. It had cost her much to write the letter of dismissal, but in the face of Maud's threat, as conveyed to her by Hale, she could do nothing else. And the worst of it was that she had not been permitted to assign a cause for what George must regard as her heartless behaviour. However, and very luckily, she had scanty time for sad reflections, for shortly she heard the hearty voice of Tim, as he entered the house by the back door, and later the sibilant whisper of The Shadow. In a few minutes Canning presented himself, looking more lean and more dismal than ever in his customary suit of black. But his haggard face was lighted up with an eager smile. The mere fact that Lesbia had decided to avail herself of his services made him as gay as such a sad personage well could be. Canning was desperately anxious to repay the kindness he had received. "I am glad to see you," said Lesbia cordially. "You lost no time." "No, Miss," whispered the grim man, who stood with long, hanging arms at the door. "Captain Sargent went to London to-day with your father, and I came back with Tim at once. I am so glad you want me to help you, Miss." "I need your help very badly," sighed Lesbia, passing her hand across her brow. "Will you not sit down, Canning." "In your presence, Miss? Please excuse me." "But you are yet weak after your illness. Sit down. I want you to."