“I regret very much to have to admit that, in telling you as I did that your sons were not allowed to enter this house, I unintentionally said what was not true. I had prevented their entering by the front-door of the house; but I have discovered, during the past few hours, that advantage has been taken of my ignorance of the full extent of these premises, and that a room, which I had never been allowed to see, and which I was assured was unused, has been devoted--probably night after night--to the purpose of gambling. I recognised the voice of one of your sons among several persons who came out of that room at about four o’clock this morning, and I insisted upon being allowed to enter and examine it. “As I have some reason to suspect that my movements are watched here--by whose order I have yet to discover--I shall put this letter into the town post-box with my own hands. “I am going to venture to enclose a few lines for Gerard in this letter to you, and I shall be deeply grateful if you will allow him to have this enclosure. I am going to put it into an unsealed envelope, so that you may be convinced that I am keeping faith, and that I will not hold any communication with him but such as you may allow. I venture to think you will agree with me in thinking that a few words of vague encouragement, such as I am sending him, can do no harm whatever, and may help to make him resigned to a separation which, whatever you may think, I am sure he feels no less keenly than I do. “Yours with gratitude for your kindness to my husband, “Audrey Angmering.” She posted this letter herself with the enclosure, but she could not be sure that she was not followed and observed, and although she knew the letter would be delivered intact, she guessed that the billiard-room would not be used that night. Her surmise was a shrewd one. Not only was Barnard, the spy, absent from the corridor, where she did not doubt he had always been posted to give the alarm in case of need, but certain dimly seen figures whom she descried in the shrubbery on the opposite side of the road, and guessed to be watchers sent by Lord Clanfield, neither saw nor heard anything to intimate that “The Briars” was other than what it pretended to be, a quiet and most decorous country house the inhabitants of which passed their long nights in innocent sleep, as decent folk should. Poor Audrey was disappointed not to have received any acknowledgment of her letter. She had hoped that such a clear proof that she had been misled would have extorted some sort of reply from the viscount. He might at least have objected to her writing to Gerard, or have said that he had handed him her little, loving, harmless letter. When the next morning came, and the post still brought no news from Lord Clanfield, her spirits, which had risen with a little flicker of hope, fell again.