It was nearly ten before the girl appeared. She was wearing a long raincoat and stepped into the seat by his side with a voluble apology. “I nearly didn’t come,” she said. “I only just remembered after you’d gone that awful Black Abbot.” He was a little amused. “You don’t believe in that kind of hokum, do you?” he asked, as the car went swiftly down Baker Street. “I don’t know.” She was dubious. “He did appear once or twice when I was at the Manor, but we used to believe that these were villagers’ stories. According to the newspapers, they’ve seen more of him lately--ugh!” She shivered. He tapped his pocket significantly with his hand. “I’ve got something here that’s mighty bad for abbots black or white!” he said. “Don’t you worry, little girl.” “No, Fabe,” she said meekly. Very delicately he suggested that she might call him by the Christian name his parents had given him. There was no diminutive, he explained, and excused his correction by telling her that there was a possibility that she might address him and he would not know to whom she was speaking. “I don’t believe in long engagements, do you?” She went off at a tangent. “No, I don’t. They should be short--and sweet!” They both laughed together, and were in excellent humour by the time they reached the deserted streets of Dorking. “I only have one anxiety,” he told her. “Mr. Richard Alford has got a habit of prowling round at odd hours. On a night like this he’ll hardly leave his comfortable apartment.” “Comfortable apartment!” she scoffed. “Why, he’s only got a tiny little office, and his bedroom’s not much bigger than mine. I simply detest the man. He gives himself more airs in a day than dear Harry gives himself in ten years--you don’t mind me saying ‘dear Harry?’ You’re not jealous, are you?” He assured her he was not at all jealous. “I should have married Harry if it hadn’t been for him. Harry was simply crazy about me, but Dick hated me--how that man hated me! Mind you, I’ve always snubbed him when he got a little too fresh. I don’t say that he was chasing me--I hate girls who think every man is after them--but he was certainly very attentive once or twice. After lunch or dinner he’d get up and open the door for me, and that’s a thing that Harry never did. But of course I saw through it. It was all deceit and artfulness.” She chattered at rare intervals, except during the five miles of driving rain that forced its way under the cover and lashed her face. “It’s a horrible night,” she complained. “On the contrary, it’s one of the best nights I could have chosen even if I had the ordering of the weather,” said Mr. Gilder.