Murray, seeing Vera spring to Mrs. Porter’s side, vanished, and, being impressed with the urgency of his errand, never stopped to get his overcoat, and in a hatless condition made his way across the fields. He was just entering the carriage drive to Thornedale when he descried the doctor coming along the highway, and he started forward to meet him. He was almost within hailing distance when a man stepped from behind a clump of bushes and called him by name. The footman stared at the newcomer as if unable to believe his eyes. “So it’s yourself!” he ejaculated, walking slowly around him. “And who do you wish to see, sir?” “Miss Vera Deane, _of course_.” Both the words and the emphasis were not lost on Beverly Thorne, whose rapid approach had gone unnoticed, and he contemplated the newcomer with mixed feelings as he strode past them, Murray never even seeing him. CHAPTER XII DETECTIVE MITCHELL ASKS QUESTIONS CONTRARY to Vera’s idea of a “chatty” motor drive into Washington, Millicent and her two guests made the trip almost in silence. Hugh Wyndham, alone, seemed to find the silence irksome, but his efforts to force conversation met with no encouragement and he finally lapsed into silence. It was not until the limousine had crossed Long Bridge and was bowling along the asphalted streets of Washington that Millicent broke her moody silence. “Do you wish to go direct to the _Tribune_ office, Dorothy?” she asked, picking up the speaking-tube. Dorothy consulted her wrist watch. “Perhaps I had better; it is later than I thought. If I get through my work early we can stop at Brentano’s on the way home.” “Let me go there for you,” suggested Wyndham. “What book do you wish?” “No book, thanks; Vera wants me to order a hundred of her visiting-cards struck off.” As she spoke Dorothy opened her handbag and taking out her purse offered a Treasury bill to Wyndham. He waved it aside. “Pay for the cards when they are finished,” he exclaimed. “Please take it,” insisted Dorothy, closing her bag with a snap. “Vera objects to charge accounts.” “If you wish me to.” Wyndham pocketed the money just as the limousine drew up at the curb, and throwing aside the lap-robe he jumped out and assisted Dorothy to the sidewalk before the chauffeur could leave his seat. “Are you coming with me to Brentano’s, Millicent?” he asked, seeing that his cousin made no move to leave the car. Millicent contented herself with a nod of assent and Wyndham hastened after Dorothy who, not waiting, had already entered the office building. Wyndham’s voice brought her to a stand near the elevator shaft. “Dorothy”--he lowered his voice and drew her to one side of the corridor where there was no danger of their conversation being overheard--“I implore you not to distrust me.” “I don’t, Hugh.” “Then why do you avoid me--why refuse to see me alone?” with suppressed vehemence. “Your behavior, Dorothy, hurts me cruelly.”