On Mrs Ford the apparition had a different effect. The rather foolish smile of welcome vanished from her face as if wiped away with a sponge. Her eyes, fixed and frightened like those of a trapped animal, glared at the intruder. She took a step forward, choking. 'What--what do you mean by daring to enter my room?' she cried. The man held his ground, unmoved. His bearing was a curious blend of diffidence and aggressiveness. He was determined, but apologetic. A hired assassin of the Middle Ages, resolved to do his job loyally, yet conscious of causing inconvenience to his victim, might have looked the same. 'I am sorry,' he said, 'but I must ask you to let me have the boy, Mrs Ford.' Cynthia was herself again now. She raked the intruder with the cool stare which had so disconcerted Lord Mountry. 'Who is this gentleman?' she asked languidly. The intruder was made of tougher stuff than his lordship. He met her eye with quiet firmness. 'My name is Mennick,' he said. 'I am Mr Elmer Ford's private secretary.' 'What do you want?' said Mrs Ford. 'I have already explained what I want, Mrs Ford. I want Ogden.' Cynthia raised her eyebrows. 'What _does_ he mean, Nesta? Ogden is not here.' Mr Mennick produced from his breast-pocket a telegraph form, and in his quiet, business-like way proceeded to straighten it out. 'I have here,' he said, 'a telegram from Mr Broster, Ogden's tutor. It was one of the conditions of his engagement that if ever he was not certain of Ogden's whereabouts he should let me know at once. He tells me that early this afternoon he left Ogden in the company of a strange young lady'--Mr Mennick's spectacles flashed for a moment at Cynthia--'and that, when he returned, both of them had disappeared. He made inquiries and discovered that this young lady caught the 1.15 express to London, Ogden with her. On receipt of this information I at once wired to Mr Ford for instructions. I have his reply'--he fished for and produced a second telegram--'here.' 'I still fail to see what brings you here,' said Mrs Ford. 'Owing to the gross carelessness of his father's employees, my son appears to have been kidnapped. That is no reason--' 'I will read Mr Ford's telegram,' proceeded Mr Mennick unmoved. 'It is rather long. I think Mr Ford is somewhat annoyed. "The boy has obviously been stolen by some hireling of his mother's." I am reading Mr Ford's actual words,' he said, addressing Cynthia with that touch of diffidence which had marked his manner since his entrance. 'Don't apologize,' said Cynthia, with a short laugh. 'You're not responsible for Mr Ford's rudeness.' Mr Mennick bowed. 'He continued: "Remove him from her illegal restraint. If necessary call in police and employ force."' 'Charming!' said Mrs Ford.