Jenny received me in her little upstairs sitting-room, next to the room where she slept. She wore an indoors gown and, in answer to my formal inquiry, told me that she had a cold and was feeling rather "seedy"--not a common admission for her to make. Then I went to work, stumbling at my awkward story--so full of implied accusation against her, if it were not utterly unmeaning--under the steady thoughtful gaze of her eyes. She heard me to the end in silence. "If that rascal is trying to make mischief, if he has trumped up some story--" I tried so to put it that she could feel entitled to be on her guard without making any admissions. She made none, and offered no direct comment on the story. She took up an envelope from the writing-table by her. "This is my formal leave to Lord Fillingford to announce our engagement. I was going to post it to-night. I'll send it now by a groom. Please ring the bell for me, Austin." Loft appeared. She gave him the letter and ordered that a groom should take it to Fillingford Manor on horseback. Loft glanced at the clock. "The men will just be at their tea, miss," he said. It was now about half-past four. "It'll do in half an hour's time," she answered. "But let it get there this afternoon without fail." As Loft went out, she turned to me. "There now, that's settled." Was it? There was still to-night. I suspected to-night desperately. I suspected Jenny's love of having it both ways to the very last moment that she could. I suspected the strength of the lure toward Octon. Whether she divined my suspicions I cannot tell. She went on in her simplest, most plausible way. "Now I'm going to lie down, and I'm not sure I shall get up again. A plate of soup and a novel in bed look rather attractive! And I must get a good beauty-sleep--against my lord's coming to-morrow!" She held out her hand to me. As I took it I gave her a long look. The bright eyes were candid and unembarrassed. Yet I had grave doubts whether Jenny was speaking the whole truth--and nothing but it! On the stairs I encountered Chat. She broke out on me volubly about Jenny's indisposition. "You've seen our poor Jenny--the poor child? So ill, such a cold! And she actually wanted to go down to Catsford to see Mr. Bindlecombe and Mr. Powers on some Institute business! As if she was fit to go out--a raw cold evening, too, and getting dark so much earlier nowadays! At any rate I persuaded her out of that, and I do hope she'll be sensible and go to bed." "So do I--very much, Miss Chatters," I replied. "And she's just given me to understand that she means to do it." "That's the safe thing," Chat averred with emphasis; and, without a doubt, she was perfectly right--from more points of view than one. In bed at Breysgate, with her soup, her novel, and a watchful maid in attendance, Jenny would be safe. I did not, however, need quite as much convincing of it as Chat seemed disposed to administer to me.