‘P.S.--I have written to Horace, telling him everything about everything, and sent my letter off to him in the wilds by a runner. If you see him you might try and smooth him down. I don’t want him coming after Val with a revolver.’ Madeline read this communication through twice. Then quietly and deliberately she lay down upon the bed, and drew herself out of the control of her heart by the hard labour of thought. When she rose, she had decided that there were only two things for her to do, and she began at once to do them, continuing her refuge in action. She threw her little rooms open again, and walked methodically round the outer one, collecting the odds and ends of Indian fabrics with which she had garnished it. As the maid came in, she looked up from folding them. ‘I have news, Brookes,’ she said, ‘that necessitates my going home at once. No, it is not bad news, but--important. I will go now and see about the tonga. We must start tomorrow morning.’ Brookes called Surnoo, and the rickshaw came round. Madeline looked at her watch. ‘The telegraph office,’ she said; ‘and as quickly as may be.’ As the runners panted over the Mall, up and down and on, Madeline said to herself, ‘She shall have her chance. She shall choose.’ The four reeking Paharis pulled up at the telegraph office, and Madeline sped up the steps. There was a table, with forms printed ‘Indian Telegraphs,’ and the usual bottle of thickened ink and pair of rusty pens. She sat down to her intention as if she dared not let it cool; she wrote her message swiftly, she had worded it on the way. ‘To Mrs. Innes, Dak Bungalow, Solon. ‘From M. Anderson, Simla. ‘Frederick Prendergast died on January 7th, at Sing Sing. Your letter considered confidential if you return. Prendergast left no will. ‘M. Anderson.’ ‘Send this “urgent,” Babu,’ she said to the clerk, ‘and repeat it to the railway station, Kalka. Shall I fill up another form? No? Very well.’ At the door she turned and came back. ‘It is now eleven o’clock,’ she said. ‘The person I am telegraphing to is on her way down to get tonight’s train at Kalka. I am hoping to catch her half-way at Solon. Do you think I can?’ ‘I think so, madam. Oyess! It is the custom to stop at Solon for tiffin. The telegram can arrive there. All urgent telegram going very quick.’ ‘And in any case,’ said Madeline, ‘it can not fail to reach her at Kalka?’ ‘Not possible to fail, madam.’