Violet looked a little uncertain, as she had some excuse for being. I thought I might venture now to ask her to come back to the house to meet my formidable chief. “Sir Frank will be there by the time that we get down,” I said. “He has gone for an hour’s stroll in the park.” She put her hand to her head as she stood up and prepared to come with me. “Will he ask me anything else? What were you going to tell me just now?” “The numbers,” I reminded her. “He will ask you if you know what they meant.” “Ah! Must I tell him that? Must he know about the letters? Will everything come out?--O Bertrand!” Her gasp of anguish wrung my very heart-strings. “No!” I cried. “Don’t give way to such thoughts. You don’t know Tarleton. He is the soul of honour. He is delicacy itself. He won’t ask you one word more than he can help. You need tell him nothing more than that Weathered gave you a number to use in writing to him. You can trust Sir Frank not to ask you what the letters were about.” “But he will know--he will know!” she sighed despairingly. And I could say little in reply. We found the door unlocked that led from the house into the ruins, and we parted in the corridor, Violet going upstairs to her room while I made my way back to the library into which I had been shown at first. Waiting for me outside the door I found my friendly manservant. “You’ll find the other gentleman inside,” he whispered. “He’s been back about five minutes.” I went in trying to look unconcerned, and found Tarleton comfortably seated in an armchair engaged in the familiar rite of waving his mascot to and fro as if it were a censer with which he was offering invisible incense to the Sphinx. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting, sir. I have been taking a look at the ruins of the old Castle.” “I have had a look at them, too,” was the enigmatic answer. “Twelfth century, I should think. One of the first castles put up by the Normans when they began penetrating South Wales.” I could only hope that that was the extent of his observations. I could not bring myself to ask. There was silence between us till Violet came into the room. The change in her amazed me. She was rather pale but perfectly composed. Her manner was full of courteous dignity. It was the first time that I had seen her as the Lady Violet Bredwardine, the daughter of a noble house, conscious of her claims to deference from strangers. The consultant rose from his seat with every mark of respect and consideration, and I clumsily imitated him. She was the first to speak. “Sir Frank Tarleton?--I am told that you wish to see me on urgent business. I am sorry that you have been kept waiting, but I had gone out for a walk. Won’t you sit down?” She included me in the invitation by a slight, distant bow, as she seated herself facing us.