“You mean you want me to pretend I’m Caroline?” cried Lexy. “I wish it to be thought that you are Caroline,” Mrs. Enderby corrected her. “Please waste no time. The car will be here—” “Mrs. Enderby, I—I can’t do it!” “You can, Miss Moran, and I think you will.” But Lexy was pretty close to desperation now. Her honest and vigorous spirit was entangled in a network of promises and obligations and deceptions, and she could not see how to free herself; but she would not passively submit. “No,” she said, “I can’t. I’ve found out something—I can’t tell you about it just now, but this afternoon I hope—” “This afternoon is another thing,” said Mrs. Enderby. “In the meantime—” “But it’s important! It’s—” “You think I do not know? You think this letter sets my mind at rest?” Mrs. Enderby demanded, with one of her sudden flashes of temper. “That is imbecile! I know how serious it is that my child should leave me like this; but I know what is my duty—first, to my husband. That first, I tell you! It is for me to see that no disgrace comes upon his house, no scandal—that first! Then, next, I must see to it that the way is left open for Caroline to come back—if she wishes.” She came close to Lexy, and fixed those black eyes of hers upon the girl’s face. “I tell you, Miss Moran, there will be no scandal!” In spite of herself, Lexy was impressed. “But suppose—” she began. “No—we shall not suppose. I have told the servants that to-day Miss Enderby goes into the country, to visit her old governess for a few days. Very well—they shall see her go. If there is no other letter to-morrow, I shall tell Mr. Enderby.” “Doesn’t he know?” “Please make haste, Miss Moran!” said Mrs. Enderby. As if hypnotized, Lexy began to dress herself in Caroline’s clothes; but, as she glanced in the mirror to adjust the close-fitting little hat, the monstrousness of the whole thing overwhelmed her. She had so often seen Caroline in this hat and coat! “Oh, I can’t!” she cried. “I can’t! Suppose something terrible has happened to her, and I’m—” “Keep quiet!” said Mrs. Enderby fiercely. “I tell you it shall be so! Now, the veil. No, not like that—not as if you were disguising yourself! So!” She unlocked the door, and, taking Lexy by the arm, went out into the hall. Together they descended the stairs, Mrs. Enderby chatting volubly in French, as she was wont to do with her daughter. None of the servants would think of interrupting her, or of staring at her companion. It was an ordinary, everyday scene. Annie was crossing the lower hall. “Miss Moran will be out all day,” said Mrs. Enderby. “There will be no one at home for lunch.” “Yes, ma’am,” replied Annie. The maid would not notice when—or if—Miss Moran went out. There was nothing to arouse suspicion in any one.