Please tell Miss Enderby that I understand. I am sorry she didn’t tell me before that she had changed her mind, instead of letting me wait like that; but it’s finished now. Please tell her she can count on me to hold my tongue, and never to bother her again in any way. We are sailing to-night, or I should have tried to see you to-morrow. In case you have any message for me, you can address me at the company’s office, J. J. Eames & Son, 99 State Street. I expect to be back in about six weeks. Very truly yours, Charles Houseman. “Sailing to-night!” cried Lexy. “Then he’s gone! He’s gone!” VII “So you are still of the same mind?” inquired Mrs. Enderby. “More so, if anything,” Lexy answered seriously. It was after breakfast the next morning. Mr. Enderby had gone to his office, and Mrs. Enderby and Lexy were alone in the dining room. There was an odd sort of friendliness between them. Lexy felt no constraint in asking questions. “There isn’t any letter this morning, is there, Mrs. Enderby?” “There is not.” “Then I suppose you’re going to tell Mr. Enderby?” “This evening.” “And then?” “Then I shall be guided by his advice,” Mrs. Enderby replied blandly. Lexy could have smiled at this. She knew how likely Mrs. Enderby was to be guided by her husband; but she kept the smile and the thought to herself. “I don’t want to interfere with your plans—” she began. “I have no plans.” “I mean, if you’re going to take steps to find her—” “My child,” said Mrs. Enderby, “it is clear that you wish to amuse yourself with a grand mystery. I tell you there is no mystery, but you do not believe me. I ask you to say nothing of this matter, but you refuse. So I say to you now—go your own way, proceed with your mystery. I do not think you can hurt me very much.” Lexy flushed. “I don’t want to hurt any one,” she declared stiffly. “I just want to help your daughter.” “Proceed, then!” said Mrs. Enderby. Lexy rose. “Then I’ll say good-by, Mrs. Enderby,” she said. “My trunk’s packed. I’ll send for it this afternoon.” “And where are you going in such a hurry?” “I’m going to Wyngate,” said Lexy. “Ah!” said Mrs. Enderby. “It is a pretty place, is it not?” “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it.” “Pardon me—you saw it yesterday. It is a small village through which we passed on the way to Miss Craigie’s house.” “I didn’t know that.” “Now that you do know, perhaps you will spare yourself the trouble of going there,” said Mrs. Enderby. “I assure you you will not find Caroline there. I myself made certain inquiries. No such person has arrived in Wyngate.” There was a moment’s silence.