The stronger will prevailed--even apart from the fell significance of the alternative held out. By the time the inspanning was complete, and good-byes were in progress, Percival was on the scene with his horse saddled up and ready. "Aren't you coming in the spider with us, Mr Blachland?" said Lyn, noticing that he, too, was preparing to mount. "Not the first part of the way," he answered. "There's a home matter Percy and I want to talk over, so he's going to ride an hour or two on the road with me. Good-bye again, Earle. Had a ripping good shoot. Good-bye, Mrs Fenham," for the latter had now appeared for the first time. She looked quite unruffled, but there was that in her face which told one, at any rate, there, that she was prepared to begin the war. "Good-bye, Hilary--er--Mr Blachland," she responded sweetly, contriving that the words and tone should be distinctly audible to Lyn, who, already seated in the spider, could not possibly avoid hearing them. But had Hermia only known it the shaft had fallen harmless. "Did you hear that, father?" Lyn began, as they drove off. "That woman actually called Mr Blachland by his Christian name?" Bayfield burst out laughing. Then after a precautionary look behind-- "I expect she reckons him her brother-in-law--no, cousin-in-law already," he said. "Young West seems to have brought things to a head in that quarter. She and Blachland had a long talk together this morning. I expect they were sort of arranging family matters." "Very likely. But I don't think I ever saw any woman I detested so thoroughly and instinctively. Every time I see her I dislike her more." "Hallo, little one! You're quite fierce on the subject," laughed her father. "Why do you hate her so? Has she been uncivil to my little girlie?" "No, quite the contrary. But she's utterly false somehow. I wouldn't believe any statement that woman made--even if she were dying. But what a silly boy that young West must be. Why, she's years older than himself!" Bayfield laughed again, but he more than half thought Lyn's estimate was very likely a true one. Some little way behind, the two men had pulled their horses into a walk. "Steer ahead," said Percival doggedly. "Let's get it over." "Yes. I think we might now. So you haven't found out anything more about--Mrs Fenham, beyond what you told me last night?" "No. Her husband died about a year ago. That was up-country. I wonder you never ran against him, Hilary." "But I know him intimately, only--he isn't her husband." "The deuce! But he's dead." "No, he isn't. He's very much alive and kicking--and his name isn't Fenham either, never was." "Well, what is it then?" and his voice was hard and desperate. "Hilary Blachland." "Eh?" It was all he could say. He could only stare. He seemed to be stricken speechless with the shock, utterly speechless.