Roddy sat where she had left him. Through the window he saw the scattered trees on Primrose Hill and the grass still green on account of the long wet season. A heavy bank of thunder clouds, lined with a pale coppery light, hung suspended against the blue and the boy was lost in a dream of colour. Suddenly he gave a start. An angry look came into his eyes. He got up hurriedly, left the room and on noiseless feet crossed the hall. Carefully he opened the door. "Don't ring!" he checked the caller. "What do you want? Mother's asleep." He looked back with defiance at Stephen. "I've come round to inquire for her." Somerfield coolly passed the boy, hung up his hat on the stand, straightening his tie in the glass, with a smile at his languid reflexion. "Don't make a row then," Roddy whispered. "I suppose you'd better come into the dining-room----" He closed the door softly behind them. "How is Mrs. Uniacke?" Stephen sauntered to the sideboard, opened a box standing there and helped himself to a cigarette. Roddy watched him with a scowl. "Anything else you'd like?" he asked. "Thanks--a small whiskey and soda." Stephen's smile was insolent. "Help yourself." Roddy saw too late the loop-hole that he had offered. "Mother's just about the same. The doctor came again this morning." "What did he say?" Stephen filled his glass and lolled back in the armchair. "Nothing good--her heart's weak and she's all nerves--doesn't sleep. Of course, she can't touch solids yet--that forcible feeding nearly killed her." The boy winced as he spoke. "I'm awfully sorry," said Stephen. For once a ring of genuine feeling sounded in his high voice. "I'd like to see this government--_wiped out_!----" he clenched his hands. "Not much good--there'd be another." Roddy was practical--"you see, if you go and break laws you've got to pay--whoever you are! It's the fault of the Suffrage leaders themselves--they're just 'agitators'----" he paused--"I'd have my knife into _them_! They don't care _who_ suffers." "Well--you seem to take it pretty coolly considering your Mother is the victim?" The boy shot him an angry glance. "She wouldn't be--except for you!" A stormy silence followed the words. Stephen was preparing for battle when Roddy suddenly raised his head, malice in his hazel eyes. "Oh, by the way, I quite forgot. There's been a young woman here to-day asking for you--awfully keen. There's no accounting for people's tastes!" Stephen sat up with a start. "A young woman?--what name? And why on earth does she come here?" "Thought it was your house, perhaps--(One back"--he smiled to himself.) "She wouldn't give any name--Said you'd know----" the schoolboy grinned. "A short girl--rather fat--with a touzled mop of fair hair." Somerfield's face went a shade pale. ("It's Letty----" he thought--"oh! confound it!") but out aloud---- "I think I know. She works for our branch of the League."