"That settles it," said Lord Caterham. "I'm not coming. To be driven by you in the Hispano when you're in a hurry--no, it's not fair on any elderly man. I shall stay here." "Please yourself," said Bundle, and withdrew. Tredwell took her place. "The vicar, my lord, is most anxious to see you, some unfortunate controversy having arisen about the status of the Boys' Brigade." Lord Caterham groaned. "I rather fancied, my lord, that I had heard you mention at breakfast that you were strolling down to the village this morning to converse with the vicar on the subject." "Did you tell him so?" asked Lord Caterham eagerly. "I did, my lord. He departed, if I may say so, hot-foot. I hope I did right, my lord?" "Of course you did, Tredwell. You are always right. You couldn't go wrong if you tried." Tredwell smiled benignly and withdrew. Bundle, meanwhile, was sounding the Klaxon impatiently before the lodge gates, while a small child came hastening out with all speed from the lodge, admonishment from her mother following her. "Make haste, Katie. That be her ladyship in a mortal hurry as always." It was indeed characteristic of Bundle to be in a hurry, especially when driving a car. She had skill and nerve and was a good driver; had it been otherwise her reckless pace would have ended in disaster more than once. It was a crisp October day, with a blue sky and a dazzling sun. The sharp tang of the air brought the blood to Bundle's cheeks and filled her with the zest of living. She had that morning sent Gerald Wade's unfinished letter to Loraine Wade at Deane Priory, enclosing a few explanatory lines. The curious impression it had made upon her was somewhat dimmed in the daylight, yet it still struck her as needing explanation. She intended to get hold of Bill Eversleigh sometime and extract from him fuller details of the house-party which had ended so tragically. In the meantime, it was a lovely morning and she felt particularly well and the Hispano was running like a dream. Bundle pressed her foot down on the accelerator and the Hispano responded at once. Mile after mile vanished, traffic stops were few and far between and Bundle had a clear stretch of road in front of her. And then, without any warning whatever, a man reeled out of the hedge and on to the road right in front of the car. To stop in time was out of the question. With all her might Bundle wrenched at the steering wheel and swerved out to the right. The car was nearly in the ditch--nearly, but not quite. It was a dangerous manoeuvre, but it succeeded. Bundle was almost certain that she had missed the man. She looked back and felt a sickening sensation in the middle of her anatomy. The car had not passed over the man, but nevertheless it must have struck him in passing. He was lying face downwards on the road, and he lay ominously still.