“Morning, sir,” said this individual, in a voice as pleasant as his face. “Hoped you’d telegraph, sir, and let me drive over for you.” Crowdy alighted slowly, looking keenly about him. “I hadn’t time,” he said, gruffly—being convinced, for some strange reason, that the late Dandy Chater had been of a somewhat overbearing disposition. He walked slowly up the steps, and into Chater Hall. There his troubles began; for, in the first place, he did not even know his room—did not, as he had already suggested, even know which way to turn. In desperation, he laid his hand on the knob of the first door he saw, and walked boldly in. He found himself in what was evidently the dining-room. He turned, as he was passing through the doorway, and beckoned to the young servant, who had taken his hat and coat, and who was lingering in the hall. “Here, I want you,” he said. His quick eye, roving round the room, had seen a pipe on the mantelshelf, and a spirit stand on an ancient Sheraton sideboard. “Get me a whiskey and soda, and bring me those cigars—the last lot I had.” The servant placed the spirit stand at his master’s elbow, and hurried away to complete the order. Philip Crowdy leaned back in his chair, and laughed softly, when he thought of how well he was carrying the thing off. “I must be as natural as possible,” he muttered. “That was a good move about the cigars.” The servant reëntered the room, bringing the cigars, and a letter which he handed to Crowdy. “Brought this morning, sir, quite early,” he said. Philip Crowdy, after a moment’s hesitation, broke the seal, and read the following astounding note— “_Dearest Dandy_, “_You shall have your answer, sooner even than I promised. I do trust you; I do believe in your capacity for the better things of which you have spoken. I will marry you, when you like, and with a glad heart. Come and see me to-morrow night, and we can talk about it comfortably._ “_Yours loyally_, “_Margaret Barnshaw_.” Philip Crowdy dismissed the servant, with a wave of the hand, and sank into a chair helplessly. CHAPTER III BETTY SIGGS BECOMES ALARMED Philip Crowdy felt, however, that there was no time to waste in vain speculation; he had plunged into a mad business, and it must be carried through at all hazards. Moreover, the more he came to think about it, the more the strong nature of the man rose up, to assist him to confront his difficulties. Essentially cool and calculating, he saw his desperate position, and saw, too, how the house of cards he was erecting might be fluttered down at a breath. At the same time, with the daring of a desperate man, he took the thing quietly, and determined to advance step by step.