Behind them the door opened noiselessly, and her ladyship appeared in cloak and wimple. She paused there, unperceived by either, arrested by the words she had caught, and waiting in the hope of hearing more. “I must sleep on't, at least,” his lordship was continuing. “'Tis too grave a matter to be determined thus in haste.” A faint sound caught the keen ears of Mr. Caryll. He turned with a leisureliness that bore witness to his miraculous self-control. Perceiving the countess, he bowed, and casually put his lordship on his guard. “Ah!” said he. “Here is her ladyship returned.” Lord Ostermore gasped audibly and swung round in an alarm than which nothing could have betrayed him more effectively. “My--my love!” he cried, stammering, and by his wild haste to conceal the letter that he held, drew her attention to it. Mr. Caryll stepped between them, his back to his lordship, that he might act as a screen under cover of which to dispose safely of that dangerous document. But he was too late. Her ladyship's quick eyes had flashed to it, and if the distance precluded the possibility of her discovering anything that might be written upon it, she, nevertheless, could see the curious nature of the paper, which was of the flimsiest tissue of a sort extremely uncommon. “What is't ye hide?” said she, as she came forward. “Why, we are very close, surely! What mischief is't ye hatch, my lord?”' “Mis--mischief, my love?” He smiled propitiatingly--hating her more than ever in that moment. He had stuffed the letter into an inner pocket of his coat, and but that she had another matter to concern her at the moment she would not have allowed the question she had asked to be so put aside. But this other matter upon her mind touched her very closely. “Devil take it, whatever it may be! Rotherby is here.” “Rotherby?” His demeanor changed; from conciliating it was of a sudden transformed to indignant. “What makes he here?” he demanded. “Did I not forbid him my house?” “I brought him,” she answered pregnantly. But for once he was not to be put down. “Then you may take him hence again,” said he. “I'll not have him under my roof--under the same roof with that poor child he used so infamously. I'll not suffer it!” The Gorgon cannot have looked more coldly wicked than her ladyship just then. “Have a care, my lord!” she muttered threateningly. “Oh, have a care, I do beseech you. I am not so to be crossed!” “Nor am I, ma'am,” he rejoined, and then, before more could be said, Mr. Caryll stepped forward to remind them of his presence--which they seemed to stand in danger of forgetting. “I fear that I intrude, my lord,” said he, and bowed in leave-taking. “I shall wait upon your lordship later. Your most devoted. Ma'am, your very humble servant.” And he bowed himself out.