When the servants had gone and the port came (Mervyn did not drink it, but his father did), Mervyn perceived his moment: the presence of the others was no hindrance; had not Trix's punishment been as public as her sin? If she were forgiven, the ceremony should certainly be in the face of the congregation. 'So you heard from Mr. Fricker to-day?' he said to Trix. He did not mean to trap her, only, as explained, to raise a cry of admiration by telling how he came to know and producing the envelope. But in an instant Trix suspected a trap and was on the alert; she had the vigilance of the hunted; her brain worked at lightning speed. In a flash of salvation the picture of herself crumpling up the letter rose before her; the letter, yes, but the envelope? In the result Mervyn's 'score' succeeded to a marvel. 'Yes, but how did you know?' she cried, apparently in boundless innocent astonishment. 'Ah!' said he archly. 'Now how did I know?' He produced the envelope and held it up before her eyes. 'You'd never make a diplomatist, Trix!' 'I dropped it in the garden!' 'And, as I was naturally looking for you, I found it!' He was not disappointed of his sensation. The thing was simple indeed, but neat. 'I notice everything too--everything,' observed Lord Barmouth, with the air of explaining an occurrence otherwise very astonishing. 'It's quite true, Robert does,' Lady Barmouth assured Mrs. Bonfill. 'Wonderful!' ejaculated that lady with friendly heartiness. Lord Barmouth cleared his throat. 'So far as possible from that quarter, good news, I hope?' Trix had postponed making up her mind what to say; she did not mean to mention Fricker's letter till the next morning, and hoped that she would see her way a little clearer then. She was denied the respite. They all waited for her answer. 'Oh, don't let's talk business at dinner! I'll tell you about it afterwards,' she said. Mervyn interposed with a suave but peremptory request. 'My dear, it must be on our minds. Just tell us in a word.' Her brain, still working at express speed, seeming indeed as though it could never again drop to humdrum pace, pictured the effect of the truth and the Barmouth way of looking at the truth. She had no hope but that the truth--well, most of the truth anyhow--must come some day; but she must tell it to Mervyn alone, at her own time; she would not and could not tell it to them all there and then. 'It's very good,' she said coolly. 'I don't understand quite how good, but quite good.' 'And the whole thing's finished?' asked Mrs. Bonfill. 'Absolutely finished,' assented Trix. Lord Barmouth sighed and looked round the table; his air was magnanimous in the extreme. 'I think we must say, "All's well that ends well!"' Trix was next him; he patted her hand as it lay on the table. That was going just a little too far. 'It ends well--and it ends!' amended Mervyn with affectionate authority. Lady Barmouth nodded approval to Mrs. Bonfill.