One thing struck her as odd. When he recovered from the excess of joy caused by the communication of Pallant, he wrote a lengthy letter, and this he was particular to post himself. As a rule, Joad attended to the despatch of such rare epistles as were sent from the Red House, so Dora was astonished that her guardian should be so anxious about this especial letter. It occurred to her that it might possibly have been sent to Lady Burville, with whom she felt certain her guardian was connected in some underhanded way. But she had never learnt if her belief were correct. What she did learn, however, was that Edermont wrote to Allen at Canterbury during the last days of July; also, he sent a third letter, but to whom Dora did not know. The first and last of these communications were posted with his own hand; the middle one had been delivered to Joad in the usual way. On the night of the second of August, Edermont dismissed Joad as usual, and locked the gates according to custom. Then he returned to bolt and bar the house. In his study he found Dora awaiting him. "You have not seen to the little postern," she said. "No matter," he replied impatiently. "I suppose it is locked; if not--why, I can afford to leave it as it is and sleep in peace. There is no more danger for me now." "Of what danger are you talking, Mr. Edermont?" "What is that to you?" he retorted with weak defiance. "Why are you here? Go to bed and leave my business alone!" "I will go to bed when you have answered me one question." "Only one?" he scoffed. "You are more moderate than most women. Well?" "Why have you written to Allen Scott?" "Who told you I had done so?" "Mr. Joad." "He is too meddlesome!" cried Edermont angrily. "If he does not take care I shall dismiss him! What right had he to show you that letter?" "Because he knows that I am engaged to Allen." "I tell you the engagement must be broken off." "Why, Mr. Edermont?" asked Dora indignantly. "Allen will tell you. I wrote to him to call and see me. When he comes you shall speak to him in my presence, and from his own lips you shall hear that he can never be your husband." "Until then I decline to consider the engagement as broken," said Dora, very pale, but firm. "I am not going to be your dupe, Mr. Edermont. I shall force you to explain." "I--I forbid you to--to speak to me like this!" cried Edermont, shrinking back. "I shall speak as I choose--I am tired of your selfish tyranny; and if Allen does not make me his wife, I shall go out into the world to earn my own living. At least I have enough to live on." "Enough to live on?" he replied slowly. "Perhaps yes, perhaps no." "What do you mean, sir?" she demanded imperiously. A crafty smile played over the face of Mr. Edermont, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Wait till Allen comes: then you may learn more than you care to listen to. Now go to bed. By the way, what about your toothache?" "Toothache?"