As to the letter of apology, the Duke silenced criticism with extraordinary brusqueness. The change in the policy of the _Aristocrat_ was revolutionary. It affected Mr. Nape dismally, it affected Mr. R. B. Rake, editor of the _L. & L._ staggeringly—it had a paralysing effect upon the household at Hydeholme. "Now what on earth is the meaning of this," demanded the knight. He stabbed the newspaper with his short forefinger. The article it referred to was headed "An Open Letter." It began— "To one whom I have offended." "That’s me, of course," said the knight and read on. As he read and re-read he grew more and more bewildered, for this was an apology, an abject grovelling plea for forgiveness. "_It is forbidden that I should see you——_" "Quite right," said Sir Harry. "I told William that under no circumstance he was to admit him." "_My letters are returned unopened_" (Sir Harry smiled grimly. He _had_ received a letter in the Duke’s handwriting and had promptly reposted it), "_and with every day comes a surer knowledge of my error in opposing your will...._ "_It is this realization that has decided me upon my future conduct. You wish me to go away—I will go. You wish me to be more considerate_"—("I’ve never said so in so many words," commented the knight)—"_you desire that I should forego all local ambition and retire to the oblivion from whence I sprang—so be it._" "Remarkable," was all that Sir Harry could say. "_If I have caused you pain by my presumption_"—("Pain!" said Sir Harry, and thought of the sixty thousand pounds)—"_I am sorry. I return to the wilds, to the illimitable breadth and length of the wilderness. Here on some waterless plain, where vultures hover in the clear blue sky...._" "D’ye know," said Sir Harry helplessly. "D’ye know, Hal. I really cannot understand this business. I really can _not_. Last week he was referring to me as ’the sort of person who had made England what she was’—in quite an objectionable way—spoke insultingly about the leather trade and referred meaningly to Hidebound Arrogance. Now——!" "It’s Tuppy!" said Hal. "I knew it would happen; Tuppy is the chap who is working the oracle. As soon as the idea occurred to me I said, ’By Jove! that’s a corker!’" Sir Harry fixed his pince-nez more firmly on his nose and continued to read— "_I have dared too much_" ("I should jolly well say so," interjected Hal), "_I have moved too fast and I pay the penalty. Our contract is broken_" ("That’s an important admission if he goes into court about the lease," commented Sir Harry over his glasses); _"at the appointed time I will remove myself. Farewell._" Sir Harry folded up the paper. He looked at Hal, and Hal looked at him. Then Sir Harry took off his glasses, folded them and placed them ceremoniously in his waistcoat pocket. "May we say," he queried with majestic calm, "that we have triumphed?" Strangely enough this "Open Letter" inspired the same question in the mind of Alicia Terrill.