She turned away, and walked a little way down the platform. The train was already in the station. She entered a carriage and sat in the furthest corner. "Thank you," she said. "I am glad that you have told me the truth. Would you mind going away now, please?" "I am sorry," Deane said simply. "Remember that I only did what ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have done in my place. I wanted that paper, and your brother begged for just such an enterprise." She held out her hands. "If you please!" she said. "Good-bye!" Deane turned away. The girl was a little fool, of course. Yet as he turned and watched the smoke of the train disappear, and thought of her in her empty third-class carriage, alone, he was conscious of a sense of acute depression--none the less acute because it was vague. He turned back to the village, walking with heavy steps. It was as though a new trouble had come into his life. CHAPTER XVII A NEW DANGER Deane was shown into what was apparently the morning-room of the Sarsby domicile by an open-mouthed and very country-looking domestic, who regarded him all the time with unaffected curiosity. Mr. Sarsby was sitting in an easy-chair, reading the _Times_. Directly he recognized his visitor he showed signs of nervousness. "Ah, Mr. Deane!" he said, rising. "How do you do, Mr. Deane?" Deane shook hands. His host did not ask him to sit down, nor did he himself resume his seat. "I looked in," Deane explained, "to know what your niece had decided to do." "She has decided to go to London at once," Mr. Sarsby answered,--"at once. It is very inconvenient for all of us. I am almost sorry that you ever happened to point out the paragraph, especially as there seems to be no property of any sort to be found." The door was suddenly opened and Ruby Sinclair entered. There was a frown which was almost a scowl upon her dark, handsome face. Little Mr. Sarsby seemed suddenly to have become a person of no importance. "Mr. Deane will excuse me," he said hurriedly, yet with a marked attempt at stiffness. "I have to return the _Times_." He left the room. Deane looked after him with some surprise. "What is the matter with your uncle?" he asked the girl. "He has just heard," she answered, "that a young lady from somewhere or other spent the night out at the tower last night." Deane looked at her in amazement. "And what business is it of his?" he asked. "I don't know," brusquely. "As a rule, gentlemen when they're living alone don't have young lady visitors,--not to stay the night, at any rate." Deane laughed. "The young lady in question," he said, "came to see me on a very important matter. If you heard anything of the storm last night, you would understand that it was scarcely possible for any one to have found her way from the tower to the mainland after the flood-tide was in."