The Grand Muveran, as seen from this position, was still robed in morning shadow; and sunlight fell on the small glacier to the left just below the summit. The Petit Muveran, standing pertly up to his gigantic neighbour, also cast a shadow downward. Across the fore-shortened Rhone valley, the Dent du Midi flung his stately head aloft, no longer reduced to insignificance, as when seen from the Chamossaire summit, by the greater aristocracy of the mountain-world. Yet some fair aristocrats were visible, huddled together in the distance,—rounded and snow-clad heights of the Valaisian range, above the Glacier de Trient. The Dent du Midi, wide-spreading, solid, substantial, with great saddle-back ridges extending outward and downward, was all blue with a different blue from that of the sky. And soft cotton-wool masses of cloud lay in the ravines, not yet dispersed by the sun's power. All around was stillness, unbroken except by the continuous murmur of insects, the click of grasshoppers, the rough caw of a crow, and two alternating human voices. Little dreamt Doris or Maurice who was on the other side of the châlet wall! Mrs. Brutt had meant to stay where she was "only a minute." She had an uneasy consciousness that her position was far from dignified. So she would only just listen to a word or two. Then, with scathing apologies, she would step forth upon the guilty pair. But she stayed much longer than a minute; and she heard much more than a word or two. CHAPTER XXVIII What Mrs. Brutt Heard ONE or two murmurs; and then— "Dick, I don't think you are well." (Mrs. Brutt pricked up her ears. "Dick" indeed! Had it gone so far already? She felt that she was amply justified in listening. No one could blame her for carrying out so patent a duty.) "I'm fit enough. Only worried." "What about? Tell me." "I've had a letter." "From your mother? From one of your sisters? Try to forget it just now. Dick, I didn't half think we should get off this morning. I believe Mrs. Brutt has begun to suspect. She's an awful hand at ferreting out things." "I should imagine she had a gift that way." "Oh, she's awful! If once she suspects, we shall have no more peace. Her 'dear young doctor' will be in her bad graces at once. However, she vanished in a hurry after breakfast—perhaps to pester them at the châlet. She does so 'love cheering up invalids,' you know." (The outraged lady held her breath. That Doris should dare to mimic her! The insolence of it! The impertinence!) "Mrs. Pressford will probably be equal to the occasion," laughed Maurice. (The "dear young doctor" had done for himself now. Mrs. Brutt reverted on the spot to her earlier opinion. Had she not known him by instinct as a "sinister" individual? She bristled with wrath.) "Tell me what worries you, Dick." "One must have bothers sometimes, darling. It's a letter from the farm." ("Darling" indeed!) "A most extraordinary thing has happened." "Yes. Tell me all about it."