“It’s all rather complicated,” she went on haltingly. “You know what Mother’s been, about our engagement. Daddie likes John and he’d be all right if it wasn’t for her. Lately she’s been trying to get round John too, telling him that he is ruining my young life and all that sort of rot. And poor old John gets fits of the blues and then he swallows everything she says and behaves like a blithering idiot afterwards, offers to let me off the engagement and all that sort of thing. He’s done it once already and we had an awful row and I wouldn’t speak to him for nearly a week. On Monday the parents went up to London and, thank goodness, they’re there still, or else I don’t think I could bear it. John and I arranged to meet in a copse near the Home Farm at five, after they’d gone, and go for a long walk. After that I was going home to dress for Miss Allen’s dinner and we’d planned that John should pick me up at her house and drive me in my car to Staveley at about eleven. You see, when the parents are at home, we never seem to get much time together and we were going to take advantage of their being away. We met at five, just as we’d arranged, but we did not go for the walk. John had met Mother somewhere the day before and she’d filled him up with the usual nonsense. He began to talk all sorts of rot about not being able to marry me for years, and all that kind of thing, and wanting to break it off. It ended in our having a fearful row, me saying he didn’t care for me and all the things one says when one’s in a rage, and so we parted. And I suppose the poor old thing was upset and went crashing off on this rotten walk and here we are in the soup. If only I hadn’t been such an ass we should have been together and everything would have been all right.” “I don’t know that you would gain anything by coming forward now,” commented Kean thoughtfully. “That’s what John says and, of course, after the line Mother’s taken, he doesn’t want to mix me up in it. What I say is, that sane people don’t go charging about the country for nearly four solid hours, unless there’s something wrong with them, and of course everybody thinks John must have been up to something. If he’d tell them exactly what happened and what _was_ wrong with him, there’d be some sense in the whole thing. Of course, we should both look awful fools,” she finished ruefully. “I’d better see Leslie to-morrow and then you can appear at the inquest if we think it’s advisable. Tell him I’ll come over to the farm in the course of the morning.” Kean rose and picked up his overcoat. Cynthia hesitated, then took her courage in both hands. “Sir Edward, Mr. Fayre is at the farm now with John and he wants to see you. Won’t you come over with me now? I’ve got the car outside and I could run you over to Staveley afterwards. Sybil knows. In fact, it was her idea, so she won’t be expecting you.” In her anxiety she forgot her shyness of him, clinging to his arm, her beseeching eyes fixed on his face.