"I am going to ignore it, as one should ignore all anonymous letters," he said. "If the writer of that letter thinks to frighten me, then he or she is sadly mistaken. I shall go on with my life as if I had never received it." Mrs. May's lips framed the sentence, "The more fool you," but she did not utter it. It filled her with satisfaction to find that the warning had been ignored, as it had filled her with anger to know that a warning had been received. And Mrs. May knew full well who was the author of that letter. "I don't think that I should ignore it," she said. "It may be a cruel piece of mischief; and, on the other hand, it may be dictated by a generous desire to help you. So the moral is that you are to keep clear of the cliffs and the sea." Geoffrey flicked the ash off his cigarette and laughed. He poured himself out a second glass of the amazing claret. "It is an unusual thing for me to do," he said, "but your claret is wonderful. You speak of the moral, I speak of the things as they are going to be. To-morrow I shall go out fishing alone as if nothing had happened." "Ah, but you have not spoken of this?" Mrs. May indicated the letter lying on the table. Geoffrey looked at her reproachfully. "Have we not trouble and misery enough in our house without making more?" he asked. "Now, I put it to you as a lady of brains and courage, if you had been in my position, would you have shown that to your family?" Geoffrey lay back in his chair with the air of a man who has put a poser. At the same time he had ingeniously parried Mrs. May's question. As a matter of fact, nobody but Ralph and Tchigorsky had seen the paper. And the latter point-blank refused to give his reasons why the letter was to be disclosed to Mrs. May. She looked at Geoffrey with real admiration. "I shouldn't," she said. "Of course, you are right and I am wrong. And I dare say you will be able to take care of yourself." He was going to disregard the warning; he was going out alone; and nobody knew what was hanging over his head! Here was a fool of fools, a pretty fellow to assist. Much good that warning had done. Geoffrey rose to his feet. "And now I must go," he said. "Still, I hope to come again." The door closed, and she was alone. Hardly had he departed before a dark figure in a white robe crept out of the gloom of the garden into the room. Mrs. May looked at the ragged looking stranger fixedly. "Who are you, and whence do you come?" she asked in her native tongue. The man salaamed almost to the ground. "I am Ben Heer, your slave," he said, "and I bring you great news." "Oh!" Mrs. May said slowly; "and so you have come at last." CHAPTER XXXVII DIPLOMACY Mrs. May crossed rapidly and noiselessly to the door and closed it. Not that there was any need for caution, seeing that the primitive household had been abed long ago. But precaution is never wasted.