“They won’t know,” said Henry. “Don’t ask me why, but send for me if you want me, and be very sure that I shall come. Got that address all right?” “Yes.” “Then I’ll be off.” “Yes, please go.” As a preliminary to going, Henry came up a step higher, set the torch on the floor, and took Jane by the hand. “Don’t get frightened, Jane,” he said. “I hate you to be frightened.” “I’m not, not really.” Henry came up another step; the trap now rested on his shoulders. “Oh, Henry, _please_....” “I’m going,” said Henry. He continued to hold Jane’s hand and appeared immovable. Jane could of course have taken her hand away and left the cupboard, but this did not occur to her till afterwards. Quite suddenly Henry kissed her wrist, and a piece of the red flannel cuff. The next minute he was really gone. Perhaps it had occurred to him that he was a chaperon. Jane lay awake for a long time. CHAPTER X Henry went away by an early train, and Jane came down to what, as a child, she had once described as a crumpled kind of day. She remembered “darling Jimmy” looking at her in a vague way, and saying in his gentle, cultivated voice: “Crumpled, my dear Jane? What do you mean by crumpled?” And Jane, frowning and direct: “I mean a thing that’s got crumps in it, Jimmy darling,” and when Mr. Carruthers did not appear to find this a sufficient explanation, she had burst into emphatic elucidation: “I was cross, and Nurse was cross, and you were cross. Yes, you were, and I had only just opened the study door ever so little; and I didn’t mean to upset the milk or to break the soap-dish; and oh, Jimmy, you must know what a crump is, and this day has been just chock-full of them. That’s why I said it was crumpled.” The day of Henry’s departure was undoubtedly a crumpled day. To start with, a letter from Mr. Molloy awaited Jane at the breakfast table. It began, “My dear Renata,” and was signed, “Your affectionate father, Cornelius R. Molloy.” Mr. Ember remarked at once upon the unusual circumstance of there being a letter for Miss Molloy, and Jane, acting on an impulse which she afterwards regretted, replied: “It’s from my father. Do you want to see what he says?” “Thank you,” said Jeffrey Ember. He glanced casually at the bald sentences in which Mr. Molloy hoped that his daughter was well, and expressed dislike of the climatic conditions which he had encountered on the voyage. His eyes rested for a moment upon the signature, and quite suddenly he cast a bombshell at Jane. “What does the ‘R’ stand for?” he said. Jane had the worst moment of panic with which her adventure had yet provided her. She was about to say that she did not know, and take the consequences, when Mr. Ember saved her. “Is it Renatus?” he asked. Jane broke into voluble speech.