The old bent woman muttered something and shook her head. She stood there with her cunning, beady eyes fixed on the noble façade of the old house. There broke from her a dry chuckle, as if her inmost thoughts were not displeasing. "You let me alone, my lady," she said. "It isn't often as my mind is as clear and bright as it is tonight. And don't you worry about Miss Mary. I'm an old woman, and I'm not good for much, but I can prevent that." A haggard, shaking hand was pointed to the entrance of the drawing-room where Mary's figure stood out under the soft light of the shaded lamps. Then Patience turned away and plunged into the bushes. Again and again Lady Dashwood called softly, but no answer came. It was peaceful and silent once more under the light of the waning moon. Mary had passed back into the drawing-room with Mayfield. The girl's head was in a whirl. At the same time she could not forget Lady Dashwood's warning and the strange hints she had dropped. Mayfield had been impressed also, or he would not have been in such haste to tear up the telegram. Why was he afraid of Lady Dashwood? How could he tell that there was something under the surface? "Perhaps you had better explain to me," the girl said. "The events of the past hour have puzzled me. You went to the library to procure a telegram form. You were going to send a message to your solicitor asking him to be here in the morning with authority to remove those men. As they are your creatures, is it not possible for you to get rid of them?" "No," Mayfield explained, "these people represent the sheriff. My solicitor is acting for me in the matter, and there would be certain formalities to go through before I could take matters out of his hands. But there are ways of keeping such matters quiet that you little dream of. . . . Wake up." The snoring creature on the yellow cushions turned over uneasily at a vigorous application of Mayfield's foot and opened his eyes. He sat up presently and demanded to know why he had been interfered with. There was no civility in the man's manner; he evidently had no sympathy with misfortune. "Speak in a proper manner," Mayfield said sternly. "I happen to know that you will be out of this house in a few hours. There is nothing to grin about, fellow. I suppose that you would not have the slightest objection to earning £5?" "So long as it's all right, mister," the other growled, "but if you've got some little game on and think that you are going to get me out of the house----" "Nothing of the kind. Do I look like that kind of person?" "Never can tell, mister. I've had the dodge tried on with me by them what has handles to their names. Still, there is no objection to hearing what you've got to say."