Unaware of the thoughts of his man, and that Mario himself had joined in the general conspiracy against him, McTaggart at last reached home. London was stuffy, white with dust, after the green countryside, and as they drove through deserted streets he was planning already his next departure. Lord Warleigh had asked him up to Scotland to shoot for the last week in August, and this would fit in well with his plans to spend a few days with the Leasons. The Uniackes, he knew, were off shortly for a month at Worthing, and McTaggart had a hazy idea of a motor trip in his new car on the south coast to fill the gap before he should start for the North. He wondered if Bethune would care to join him; conscious, with a touch of remorse, that of late he had neglected the latter, absorbed in his own friendship with Jill. And as if in answer to the question he found Bethune awaiting him. But the first glance at his visitor's face drove away all minor thoughts. For trouble was plainly written there. "That you, McTaggart?" His voice was curt, without its usual hearty ring. "I want to speak to you a moment." He closed the door carefully. "Hullo--Bethune--you're quite a stranger! What's up?" said McTaggart lightly. He did not quite like his reception, feeling an odd premonition. "Nothing wrong, I hope?" he added. "Everything. I've bad news. Trouble again--at the Uniackes--I've been waiting for you over an hour." "Not Jill?" said McTaggart quickly. He stared at his friend's changed face, the brown eyes deeply shadowed, strong jawbone prominent. "Yes." Bethune dragged up a chair and sat down, facing the other across the narrow dining table, with a certain studied deliberation. "It's like this. I'll tell you quickly. It's this damnable Suffrage business and Mrs. Uniacke again--just when we thought it all over! ... It seems there's to be a political meeting in Wales to-morrow--some big guns airing their views on Home Rule--and the Suffragettes mean mischief. The leaders are already there. They burned down a house last night--by way of endearing themselves to the natives!--and to-morrow they mean to gather in force and upset all the speech-making. Mrs. Uniacke planned to go--secretly," his face darkened--"without telling Jill a word--but Roddy got it out of Stephen. I think that woman's really mad!--She's hardly out of bed, you know, and Jill was nearly worried to death--begged and implored her to give it up." "I never heard such damned nonsense!" McTaggart broke out at this--"she ought to be put in an asylum. No wonder Jill never wrote..." Bethune gave him an odd glance. "It was only found out yesterday. But that's not the worst of it. Jill's gone in her place." "_What?_" McTaggart sprang to his feet.