As soon as Lucy was well over her accouchement in January (1891), he had several long and confidential conversations with Arthur Broadmead, that friend in need to so many men who had fallen into holes of their own digging, and who sought rectification by extending the bounds of empire and making two blades of grass to grow where but one had grown before. Several great Anglo-German financiers were seen in the City. The specimens and the School of Mines’ report thereon were left in their hands: with the result that a small and select Anglo-German Syndicate was formed to prospect in the northern part of German East Africa. Into this pool Captain Brentham put £2,000 and was constituted for three years head of the enterprise with a good salary and very large discretion as to means and methods of developing the Happy Valley. To Maud he next imparted his plans, and to his surprise they were received with cordial approval. "You’re _quite_ right, Roger, I’m sure you’ve taken the road that will most probably lead to happiness and fortune. Lucy is certain to fall in with your scheme. She can stay on in England till her baby’s weaned—it was sweet of you both to call it after me—I was so certain you were going to name it ’Sibyl’! Then she can place both the children with their grandparents at Aldermaston and come out and join you. And what is more, _I_ will come too! I should _love_ to!" There now remained—he could not say "only remained," it was too portentous a crisis—the final scene with Sibyl. He thought it over many a night when he could not sleep, many a morning when he was going through estate business with her and she was leaning unnecessarily over his shoulder or furtively pinching the lobe of his ear. A written good-bye, and then immediate departure, would be cruel, and Sibyl might afterwards revenge herself on Lucy, left behind defenceless; or on Maurice. There were, besides, points of business he must discuss with her before leaving; at any rate give her the chance of asking questions and receiving answers. So he summoned up courage one morning and telegraphed he wished to see her that afternoon in London. She was up for the "little season" which follows Christmas. He was shown into her library at 6A, Carlton House Terrace. She had come in from skating at Princes, had changed into a wonderful tea-gown and was lying on a long couch over which a magnificent tiger skin had been thrown. A small inlaid Moorish table held a tea-tray. _Sibyl_: "Have some tea? Tell him before he goes out" (referring to the retreating footman). _Roger_: "Thanks very much, no. I have had tea and I’ve got a lot to tell you. So I don’t want to lose time." (The door clicks to.) _Sibyl_: "Well. You’re very solemn. Draw up a chair. Come to give me a month’s warning? But to do that you ought to stand...." _Roger_: "That’s exactly what I _have_ come for...."