"I intended at first to keep it, and show Mr. Mallien when he returned. But then I thought--not trusting him--that if I had the will I could hold it until he gave me a deed making safe the annuity I wanted. For that reason I took advantage of your dining at the cottage, Mr. Hendle, to go and get it. I knew that the sundial was hidden among the grasses and shrubs of the vicarage garden, so there was no difficulty in finding the place mentioned. I did not think that you would return early from the dinner, and so left the thing until it was too late. I dug up the will easily, as it was only a little way under ground and the earth was piled loosely over it. Then I came out and stopped at the gate to make sure that it was the will I had found." "A silly thing to do, seeing that Kensit on his rounds might have caught you," said Carrington, returning to his seat. "Now how much of this tale are we to believe?" "The whole of it," retorted Mrs. Beatson, distinctly amazed. "It's the truth." "Hum!" said Carrington reflectively, "it may be; but did you not send that letter from yourself to yourself?" "Me!" Mrs. Beatson's voice leaped an octave. "Hush! hush!" said Hendle, hurriedly glancing at the door. "You'll bring in the servants. I need hardly tell you that it is best to thresh out this matter among the three of us." Thus warned, the housekeeper sank her voice, and took refuge in angry tears, always a woman's last resource. "I'm so tired of being insulted," she sobbed loudly. "Ever since you came across me, Mr. Hendle, that friend of yours has been taking away my character." "I rather think you have taken it away yourself by behaving so treacherously to me," said Rupert grimly. "However, I don't agree with Mr. Carrington that you sent that letter to yourself from yourself." "How could I," sobbed Mrs. Beatson, "when I haven't been near London? And I'm not a conspirator. It's a shame blaming me for trying to help myself. Why can't you leave me alone? Two men on to one woman. You ought to go on your knees and beg my pardon." This amazing view of the case extorted a contemptuous smile from Carrington. He had much experience in his profession of the fair sex, and knew the marvellous way in which women extricated themselves from difficulties which would overwhelm a mere man. Logic, as he was well aware, formed no part of the feminine nature. "I shan't try to argue with you," he said mildly, "for you would be sure to get the better of me. But you have behaved very badly to Mr. Hendle." "No, I haven't. I had a right to look after myself." "Not at his expense. He has always treated you kindly and----" "Well, why shouldn't he?" demanded Mrs. Beatson, rolling up her handkerchief into a damp ball and dabbing her red eyes. "I have always done my duty, I hope, and at a small salary, too. I could get a better place any day." "Then I advise you to look out for one," said Rupert, astonished at this ingratitude. "You certainly shan't stay here."