Rodgers reported, in an unmoved undertone, that the man with the post-bag had started for Riversmead, on his bicycle, twenty minutes ago. "Order the motor," commanded Diana. "Tell Knox to come round as quickly as possible. I must overtake the post-bag." She placed her letter in a fresh envelope, rapidly addressed, sealed, and stamped it; flew up for a hat and coat, and was downstairs, ready to start, within five minutes of her discovery of the mistake. She paced the hall like a caged lion. Every word she had written stood out in letters of fire. Oh folly, folly, to have let the two letters lie side by side! "It meant no more than we intended it should mean".... _Your wife, who loves you and longs for you._ At last the motor hummed up to the portico. Diana was in it before it drew up. "Overtake Jarvis," she said, and sat back, palpitating. They flew down the avenue, and along the high road. But Jarvis had had nearly half-an-hour's start, and was a dependable man. A little way from the lodge gates they met him returning. "On! To the post-office!" cried Diana. It so happened that a smart, new post-office had lately been opened, in the centre of the little town--a stone building, very official in appearance. Its workings were carried out with great precision and authority. The old postmaster was living up to the grandeur of his new building. Diana walked in, letting the door swing behind her. "Has the Riverscourt bag been emptied yet?" she enquired. "If not, bring it to me, unopened." A clerk went into the sorting-room, and returned in a few minutes with the letter-bag, open and empty. "Has the mail gone?" demanded Diana. No, the mail had not gone. It was due out, in a few minutes. The letters were being sorted. She could hear the double bang-bang of the postmarking. "I wish to see the Postmaster," said Diana. The Postmaster was summoned, and, hurrying out, bowed low before the mistress of Riverscourt. She did not often come, in person, even to the _new_ post-office. Diana knew she had a difficult matter to broach, and realised that she must not be imperious. D. R. might reign at Riverscourt; but E. R. was sovereign of the realm! Her love-letter to David had now become the property of the King; and this courteous little person, bowing before her, was, very consciously, the King's official in Riversmead. Was not E. R. carved with many flourishes on a stone escutcheon on the face of the new post-office? Diana, curbing her impatience, smiled graciously at the Postmaster. "May I have a few words with you, in your private room, Mr. Holdsworth?" she said. Full of pleased importance, the little great man ushered her into his private sanctum, adjoining the sorting-room. A bright fire burned in the grate. The room was new, and not yet papered; and the autumn evening was chill. Diana walked up to the fire, drew off her gloves, and, stooping, warmed her hands at the blaze. Then she turned and faced the Postmaster.