‘And now, sir,’ I said, in conclusion, ‘the question arises as to whether I can be spared from my college duties until this painful business is placed upon, what at all events approaches, a reasonable and workable footing?’ ‘Which signifies, being interpreted—am I prepared to sanction your doing that which you fully intend to do whether I sanction it or not? Eh, Brownlow?’ I acquiesced smiling, relieved to find him in so sympathetic a humour. ‘Very well, then; so be it,’ he said. ‘Having put your hand to this particular plough—at no small personal cost to yourself, quixotic fellow that you are—you are resolved not to look back; and I am the last man to invite you to do so. On the contrary, go on with your ploughing and drive a straight furrow. Only provide, to the best of your ability, against friction and disappointment here. Your absence will necessarily create some. Both I and others shall miss you. You must pay—or rather we, I suppose, must pay—the price of your popularity.’ And he looked at me very kindly, while I reddened at the implied praise. ‘See the amount of friction be as small as possible,’ he went on. ‘And now, as to this erratic young nobleman, Lord Hartover—whose affairs appear to furnish such a promising battlefield to the powers of good and evil—I shall make no attempt to see him, although it would interest me to do so. Knowing all that I do know about him and his family, I should find it almost impossible to ignore personal matters, and equally impossible, in the present crisis, to speak of them without a breach of good taste. I have hardly seen him since the death of his mother, the first Lady Longmoor, when he was a child.—Ah! there was a rare specimen of womanhood, Brownlow, if you like! I stayed at Hover frequently during her all too brief reign. This young man may esteem himself fortunate if he inherits even a tithe of her charm of person and of nature.’ After which pleasantly encouraging words I rose to depart. While, as the Master held out his hand to me⸺ ‘Remember I am content to pull the strings unseen,’ he added. ‘Consult me by letter if you need my advice. Count on me in respect of pounds, shillings, and pence, too, if your own funds do not cover the expenditure in which you may find yourself involved. We must prepare for contingencies—Detective Inspector Lavender to wit. With his participation, by the way, I should strongly advise you not to acquaint Lord Hartover unless absolutely compelled. Convict the woman, but, if possible, do so privately. Avoid all appearance of running her down; since, for sentimental if no deeper reasons, it might lead to a breach between yourself and the young man which would be lamentable in the extreme.’