“I have been thinking,” he continued somewhat shyly, “as to what is to be done. First of all, no one must be told. Mother, Molly, you, and I know it, and we must keep it to ourselves. We will tell Stanley that Christian has gone off suddenly in connection with his work, and the same excuse will do for the neighbours and servants. I will telegraph this morning to Mr. Bodery, the editor of the _Beacon_, and await his instructions. I think that is all that we can do in the meantime.” She was standing close to him, with one hand on the table, resting upon the closed volume of “Vanity Fair,” but instead of looking at her brother she was gazing calmly out of the window. “Yes,” she murmured, “I think that is all that we can do in the meantime.” Sidney moved awkwardly as if about to leave the room, but hesitated still. “Have you nothing to suggest?” he asked. “Do you think I am acting rightly?” She was still looking out of the window--still standing motionless near the table with her hand upon Thackeray's “Vanity Fair.” “Yes,” she replied; “everything you suggest seems wise and prudent.” “Then will you see mother and Molly in their rooms and forewarn them to say nothing--nothing that may betray our anxiety?” “Yes, I will see them.” Sidney walked heavily to the door. Grasping the handle, he turned round once more. “It is nearly half-past seven,” he said, with more confidence in his tone, “and Mary will soon be coming to awake you. It would not do for her to see you in that dress.” Hilda turned and raised her eyes to his face. “No,” she said, with a sudden smile; “I will change it at once.” CHAPTER XIV FOILED When Mr. Bodery opened the door of the room upon the second floor of the tall house in the Strand that morning, he found Mr. Morgan seated at the table surrounded by proof-sheets, with his coat off and shirt-sleeves tucked up. The subeditor of the _Beacon_ was in reality a good hard worker in his comfortable way, and there was little harm in his desire that the world should be aware of his industry. “Good morning, Morgan,” said the editor, hanging up his hat. “Morning,” replied the other genially, but without looking up. Before Mr. Bodery had seated himself, however, the sub-editor laid his hand with heavy approval upon the odoriferous proof-sheet before him, and looked up. “This article of Vellacott's is first-rate,” he said. “By Jove! sir, he drops on these holy fathers--lets them have it right and left. The way he has worked out the thing is wonderful, and that method of putting everything upon supposition is a grand idea. It suggests how the thing _could_ be done upon the face of it, while the initiated will see quickly enough that it means to show how the trick was in reality performed--ha, ha!”