"You have telegraphed to Dr. Bryant already. He may possibly have received news since sending off his note; and if so, you will hear again. Very likely you will have a letter from Lettice in the course of the day. I think, however, that you would be wise to go to the station this evening, and to make a few inquiries. Perhaps the guard of the train may remember if they reached Victoria." "To be sure! The very thing! I asked him to see to them." "Then he would tell you at least so much. If he saw them there, they must now be either in London, or somewhere on the way to Bristol. You are almost certain to hear something, at latest, by the morning's post." "And if I don't—" "Then we must consider what step to take next. I cannot wait longer now, as I am overdue elsewhere. Only one word—pray look upon me as a friend in this matter, Anderson. If it becomes needful for you to run up to Town, do not be anxious as to ways and means. You must let me advance any sum that you may need." He held out his hand, and it was grasped in kind, with unusual warmth, half shame-faced by Felix. "Now good-bye, and I sincerely trust that all will come right in a few hours." Those few hours were hard to live through. Do what Felix might, he could not lose sight of his suspense. To sit still was an impossibility; and to remain long within reach of Mrs. Crofton's doleful prognostications was an equal impossibility; but he kept incessant watch for tidings, and at length a telegram arrived from Dr. Bryant: "Not come; no news; most perplexing." Felix slept little that night, and he was astir unwontedly early next morning. The postman's knock brought him downstairs with a rush, to receive a letter: handwriting unfamiliar; postmark Reading. He tore it open. "From 'Prudence Valentine.' Who on earth is she? Something Farm—What's the name?" He skimmed the contents rapidly. "DEAR MR. ANDERSON,—I am very sorry no one wrote to you yesterday or to-day, but between us all, it has been somehow overlooked. I am writing now late at night, that the letter may go off early to-morrow—Saturday—morning. "My sister travelled on Thursday from Haywards Heath with your sisters; and as Miss Anderson was taken worse on the way, becoming really too ill to go on, she brought them both home with her. We had our doctor in at once, and all has been done that could be done. My sister Bertha is a trained nurse. "It would be wrong to hide from you that Miss Anderson has been in great danger, and that her state is still critical; but we hope that she has begun to improve.