Raife was worried and said, rather impatiently: "Yes, Edgson," then smiling a forced smile, added: "What is it this time?" Closing the door, and looking around with an air of mystery, the old servant almost whispered: "Do you remember the night, sir, in last September, when I saw the light in the library, and I had the house surrounded?" "Yes," interrupted Raife, irritably. "What about it?" The old man, once started, was not to be waved aside: "Well, sir, one of the under-gardeners, Hodgson, it was. He was at work among the rhododendrons, and he picked up a long piece of silk rope." Raife cut him short, saying: "Yes, I know, where is it?" The old man stared at this outburst, and said: "He handed it to me, sir." "Did he; and have you mentioned it to anyone, else?" With a sly look, that bordered as nearly on a wink as his well-trained discretion would allow, the old man replied, "No, Sir Raife, I have the rope. I gave him half a crown and told him to mind that we didn't want no gabblers round Aldborough Park." "Quite right, Edgson, you acted very wisely. I'll tell you all about it, perhaps, some day." "Perhaps" is always useful, in qualifying a promise. Producing a sovereign-purse, he extracted two sovereigns and handing them to Edgson, said: "Do what you like with these, Edgson. I suggest you give the man, Hodgson, one." Edgson bowed low. "Very good, Sir Raife, I'll carry out your instructions." When the old man had finally gone, Raife mixed himself another whisky and soda, and cursed with a freedom that was not customary with him. This contretemps was more tangible than the others, and it was the fourth incident or train of unpleasant thoughts that had been forced on him, on this the joyful day, when he had brought Hilda to his home. He was not superstitious, but his nerves were affected by the sequence of events. Did they spell disaster? The spring day had ended in an unusually warm moonlight night. After dinner they walked on to the terrace and sauntered up and down. Hilda's happiness was very great, and unmarred by doubt or foreboding. "The other woman" was not in her thoughts. She surveyed the ornamental flower beds which, even in this light, showed the wealth of blossom. She had already examined, at close quarters, the old sundial and the quaint-carved stone figures around the lily pond, with a fountain in the centre, with sleepy old carp gliding through the dark shadows of its waters. At length, they decided it was warm enough to sit in the chairs that had been brought from some mysterious corner where they had rested through the long winter time.