"Wait a bit, Austin. He sat with this note--Miss Driver's--in his hand, turning it over and over. He didn't offer to show it to either of us, but he kept looking across at Aunt Sarah. I took up a paper, but I watched them from behind it. He was weighing something in his mind; she wouldn't look at him--playing sulky still over the business of the first note, the one that boy in the red cap had brought. At last he got up and went over to her. He spoke rather low, but I heard--well, he could have sent me away, or gone away with her himself, if he hadn't wanted me to hear. 'A note I've had from Miss Driver makes it very proper for me to call on her this evening,' he said. Aunt Sarah looked up, wide awake in a minute. 'You'll go this evening--to Breysgate?' she asked. 'Yes, at seven.' 'At seven,' she repeated after him with a nod. 'But perhaps she'll be out.' 'That's possible,' he answered. 'But I shall wait for her--she must come in before dinner.' Aunt Sarah looked hard at him. 'They'll probably know where she's gone if she is out. You could go and meet her,' she said to him. I can't give you the way they talked--it was all as if what they said meant something different, or something more, at any rate. When Aunt Sarah suggested that he might go and meet Miss Driver, he started a little, then thought it over. At last he said, 'I shall try to find her to-night.' 'You're sensible at last!' she said--and added something in a whisper. My father nodded, and walked out of the room, pocketing his letter. Aunt Sarah went to the fire and burned hers. I wish I could have got a look at it!" "So do I," I said. "It's just on seven now." I was thinking hard. The boy with the red cap--Powers's boy--the note--the subterranean quarrel over it--the strange half-spoken half-suppressed conversation that followed--these gave plenty of matter for thought when I added to them my sore doubts of the way in which Jenny in truth meant to spend the evening. "Of course it may be all nothing. I'm afraid all the time of being infernally officious." "Your father will pretty nearly be at Breysgate by now." "And she's there, I suppose, isn't she?" His question was full of hesitation. In an instant, on his question, my doubts and suspicions seemed to harden into certainties. I knew--it was nothing less than knowledge--that she was not there, and that the note brought by the boy with the red cap told truly where she was. Fillingford would go to Breysgate--he would be referred to Chat. Chat would tell him that Jenny was in bed. Would he believe it and go home peacefully--to face Lady Sarah's angry scorn and the doubts of his own perplexed mind? He might--then all would be well. But he might not believe it. He had said that he would try to find her to-night. He knew where to find her--if he trusted the information which the boy in the red cap had brought. "He doesn't know you've come here, of course?"