"I didn't know it." He champed his upper lip. He could not in the least account for the feeling, but he was bitterly, basely disappointed at this last revelation. Miss Tancred was independent. Up till now he could not bring himself to believe in her flight; he did not want to believe in it; it would have been a relief to him to know that the strange bird's wings were clipped. "It was her mother's; what the poor lady traveled on, I suppose. Frida might have been enjoying it all the time, only, you see, there was the Colonel. That's why she wants him to marry Mrs. Fazakerly, though she'd rather die than own it." "Why shouldn't she own it?" "Because she can't trust her motives, trust herself. I never saw a woman fight so shy of herself." "Then that's what she was thinking of when she said she was afraid of her own feelings." "Oh! So she _did_ say it, did she?" "She said that or something very like it. You think that's what she must have meant?" He appealed to her humbly, as to one who had mastered the difficult subject of Frida Tancred. "Why, whatever else _could_ she have meant, stupid?" There was an awkward silence, broken, or rather mended, by Miss Chatterton saying, as she stood with her hand on the door: "Look here, you're not going to back out of it. You've promised to stand by and see us through with it, honor bright." "I promised nothing of the sort, but I'll stand by all right." "You may have a bad time. The Colonel will kick up an awful fuss; but remember, you're not in the least responsible. I'm the criminal." It was as if she had said, "Don't exaggerate your importance. I, not you, am Miss Tancred's savior and deliverer." He stiffened visibly. "I shall not quarrel with you for the _role_." XII Monday was the day of the great deliverance, the day that was fixed for Frida Tancred's flight. And, as if it meant to mark an era and a hegira and the beginning of revolution, it distinguished itself from other days by suitable signs and portents. It dawned through a brooding haze that threatened heat, then changed its mind, thickened and massed itself for storm. While he was dressing, Durant was made aware of the meteorological disturbance by an incessant tap-tap on the barometer as the Colonel consulted his oracle in the hall. The official announcement was made at breakfast. "There is a change in the glass," said the Colonel. "Mr. Durant brought the fine weather with him and Miss Chatterton is taking it away." "I'm taking something else away beside the weather," said she. But the spirit of prophecy was upon him. "To judge by to-day's forecast, I think we shall see Frida back again before the fine weather." Whereupon Durant smiled and Miss Chatterton laughed, which gave him an agreeable sense of being witty as well as prophetic.