“Your letter came as a welcome surprise—to think that you are looking for employment! Well, we must see to this—I promise you, you will not have far to look. Come here to me at once, and be sure that everything will be put right and all misunderstandings wiped out. I am keeping your letter a secret from everyone, even from Marjorie, that your coming shall be the more unexpected, and the greater surprise and pleasure. But come without delay, and believe me to be, “Your very affectionate friend, “HARRIET LINDEN.” “P.S.—I suggest that you wire me the day and the train, so that I can meet you. Don’t lose any time, and be sure that all past unhappiness can be ended, and the future faced with the certainty of brighter and happier days.” Over this letter Joan Meredyth pondered a great deal. It was a warm-hearted and affectionate response to her somewhat stilted little appeal. Yet what did the old lady mean, to what did the veiled reference apply? “So you mean going, then?” Slotman asked. “I told you I would go, and I shall. I leave to-morrow.” “You’ll be glad to come back,” he said. He looked at her, and there was eagerness in his eyes. “Joan, don’t be a fool, stay. I could give you a good time, and—” But she had turned her back on him. She had written to Lady Linden thanking her for her kindly letter. “I shall come to you on Saturday for the week-end, if I may. I find there is a train at a quarter-past three. I shall come by that to Cornbridge Station. “Believe me, “Yours gratefully and affectionately, “JOAN MEREDYTH.” There was a subdued excitement about Lady Linden during the Thursday and the Friday, and an irritating air of secretiveness. “Foolish, foolish young people! Both so good and so worthy in their way—the girl beautiful and clever, the man as fine and honest and upright a young fellow as ever trod this earth—donkeys! Perhaps they can’t be driven—very often donkeys can’t; but they can be led!” To Hugh Alston, at Hurst Dormer, seven miles away, Lady Linden had written. “MY DEAR HUGH, “I want you to come here Saturday; it is a matter of vital importance.” (She had a habit of underlining her words to give them emphasis, and she underscored “vital” three times.) “I want you to time your arrival for half-past five, a nice time for tea. Don’t be earlier, and don’t be later. And, above all, don’t fail me, or I will never forgive you.” “I expect,” Hugh thought, “that she is going to make a public announcement of the engagement between Marjorie and Tom Arundel.” It was precisely at half-past five that Hugh stepped out of his two-seater car and demanded admittance at the door of the Manor House. “Oh, Mr. Alston,” the footman said, “my lady is expecting you. She told me to show you straight into the drawing-room, and she and—” The man paused. “Her ladyship will be with you in a few moments, sir.” “There is festival in the air here, Perkins, and mystery and secrecy too, eh?”